WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING. 


NOTICE. 

THE  Publisher  of  this  Work  begs  to  state  that  it  is  Copyright,  according 
to  the  late  Copyright  Act,  5  and  6  Victoria ;  and  all  persons  are  hereby 
cautioned  against  printing,  or  causing  to  be  printed,  the  same.  Pro- 
ceedings in  Equity  will  be  instituted  against  all  persons  so  offending, 
after  this  notice. 


ME  I  0  I K 


07 


WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING, 


EXTRACTS  FROM  HIS  CORRESPONDENCE  AND 
MANUSCRIPTS. 


IN    THREE    VOLUMES. 


VOL.  I. 


LONDON: 

JOHN    CHAPMAN,    142,    STRAND. 


MDCCCXLVIII. 


ex 


cv 


v.  / 


PREFACE. 


THIS  work  is  an  autobiography,  in  so  far  as  the 
materials  at  my  command  have  enabled  me  to  give  it 
this  character,  and  consists  of  extracts  from  private 
papers,  sermons,  and  letters,  with  such  remarks  only 
interwoven  as  seemed  needed  for  purposes  of  illustra- 
tion. Its  plan  is  very  simple.  After  a  somewhat 
full  and  minute  notice  of  Mr.  Channing's  early  years, 
which  will  be  found  to  present  many  interesting  facts, 
and  which  no  one  hereafter  could  so  well  supply,  I 
have  proceeded  to  arrange  the  selections  from  his 
manuscripts  according  to  the  twofold  order  of  Subject 
and  of  Time.  This  method  was  chosen  as  the  one 
best  fitted  to  convey  an  adequate  impression  of  the 
steadiness  with  which  he  held  all  objects  of  thought 
before  his  mind,  until  his  views  became  consistent  and 
complete;  and  the  growth  of  his  opinions  is  in  this 
way  made  clear,  as  well  as  the  results  of  his  progress. 
A  thorough  reader  will  consider  any  loss  of  vivacity 
in  the  narrative  more  than  compensated  for  by  the 
knowledge  thus  gained  of  the  mental  and  moral  pro- 

A  3 


VI  PREFACE. 

cesses  of  an  earnest  seeker  after  truth  and  right.  The 
chapters  which  are  specially  devoted  to  tracing  this 
spiritual  development,  however,  are  so  separated  from 
the  more  general  biographical  parts,  that  any  one,  who 
is  inclined,  can  pass  them  hy.  In  giving  such  ample 
quotations  from  Dr.  Channing's  early  writings  I  pos- 
sihly  have  erred ;  hut  this  was  the  only  use  that  could 
be  made  of  them  under  the  directions  which  he  left ; 
and,  in  addition  to  the  wish  to  aid  others  in  forming  a 
correct  judgment  of  his  life,  I  have  been  governed  by 
the  perhaps  partial  feeling  that  the  passages  here 
printed  were  too  good  to  be  lost. 

Courtesy  seems  to  demand  some  explanation  of  the 
delay  which  has  attended  this  publication  ;  for  I  would 
not  willingly  appear  to  slight  the  just  claims  of  Dr. 
Channing's  friends  in  this  country  or  Great  Britain, 
and  impatient  lu'nts  from  many  quarters  have  reminded 
me  that  the  public  feel,  surely  with  good  reason,  that 
they  have  a  right  to  a  nearer  acquaintance  with  a  man 
who  has  been  a  spiritual  father  to  so  many.  When  the 
duty  of  preparing  this  Memoir  fell  upon  me,  because  no 
other  person  who  knew  my  uncle  so  well  could  or  would 
undertake  it,  I  at  once  saw  that  some  years  must  be 
allowed  to  pass  before  attempting  to  speak  of  one  with 
whom  I  had  lived  in  such  intimate  relations.  A  certain 
measure  of  independence  is  requisite  for  a  biographer, 
and  the  atmosphere  of  his  spirit  and  genius  had  so 


PREFACE.  Vll 

surrounded  me  from  boyhood,  that  I  could  not  at  once 
disengage  myself  from  their  charm.  In  the  next  place, 
urgent  duties  amidst  religious  and  social  movements, 
from  which  he  would  never  have  permitted  me,  on  his 
account,  to  stand  aloof,  made  such  drafts  upon  time 
and  power  as  to  prevent  the  necessary  concentration. 
And  finally,  when  a  period  of  quiet  seemed  at  last  to 
be  secured,  prolonged  and  repeated  illness  came  in  to 
hinder  the  completion  of  my  task. 

Truth  compels  me  to  add,  however,  that  dissatis- 
faction with  my  own  work,  and  consequent  efforts  to 
remodel  it,  have  been  a  chief  source  of  apparent  tardi- 
ness. It  was  my  first  design  to  present  a  finished 
portrait  of  William  Ellery  Channing,  regarded  as  a 
man,  a  minister  of  religion,  a  philosopher,  a  reformer, 
and  a  statesman — to  point  out  his  place  among  the 
leading  persons  of  the  age — and,  by  exhibiting  his 
relations  to  various  parties,  to  sketch  his  Life  and 
Times.  Extensive  preparations  were  made  accord- 
ingly. But  experiment  at  length  satisfied  me,  that  it 
was  far  more  difficult  than  I  had  supposed,  to  shun  the 
dishonesty  of  making  my  honoured  relative  the  ex- 
ponent of  my  prejudices,  without  sinking  into  a  tone  of 
non-committal  yet  more  at  variance  with  his  character 
and  with  the  truth.  I  have  therefore  preferred  silence 
to  partiality  or  tameness,  have  limited  myself  to  brief 
hints  and  descriptions,  have  stated  for  his  such 
opinions  only  as  there  could  be  no  risk  of  my  mis- 


Viii  PREFACE. 

apprehending  or  misrepresenting,  and,  in  a  word,  have 
left  him  to  he  his  own  interpreter. 

Such  as  it  is,  this  Memoir  is  now  offered  to  the 
world.  It  will  he  found  rich  in  documents  illustrative 
of  Dr.  Channing's  inner  and  outward  life ;  this  con- 
stitutes the  essential  value  of  a  hiography.  I  claim 
only  to  have  heen  a  conscientious  editor.  The  sense 
of  responsibility  to  many  friends  has  made  it  wholly 
impossible  to  speak  with  the  hearty  unreserve  with 
which  it  would  have  heen  pleasing  to  communicate  our 
individual  impressions  of  such  a  man;  and  in  contrast 
with  the  ideal  of  what  this  work  should  he,  the  frag- 
mentary notices  here  given  seem  meagre  and  dull 
indeed.  I  trust,  however,  that  through  all  obscurations 
the  bright  original  still  shines  forth. 

A  selection  from  Dr.  Channing's  Sermons,  sufficiently 
large  to  form  a  volume  of  the  same  size  with  the 
edition  of  his  works,  is  ready  for  the  press.  It  has 
been  proposed  also  to  print  a  volume  of  fragments. 
But  whether  any  of  his  remains  will  be  published  must 
depend  very  much  upon  the  expressed  wishes  of  those 
who  are  familiar  with  his  writings. 

W.  H.  C. 


CONTENTS 

OF 

THE  FIKST  VOLUME. 


PAET    I. 
CHAPTER  I. 

PARENTAGE   AND    BIRTH. 

1780. 

Rhode  Island,  1.  Newport,  2.  Firth,  4.  William  EDery  and 
Ann  Kemington,  4.  John  Channing  and  Mary  Chaloner,  10.  William 
Channing,  11.  Lucy  Ellery,  18. 

CHAPTER  II. 

BOYHOOD. 
xi.  1-14.    1780-1794. 

Childhood,  20.  Schoolmistress,  21.  Mr.  Rogers,  22.  Intellectual 
Traits,  24.  Home  Education,  25.  Political  Influences,  27.  Religious 
Influences,  28.  Character,  34.  New  London,  39.  Death  of  his  Fa- 
ther, 40.  Rev.  Henry  Channing,  42.  Revival,  42. 

CHAPTER  III. 

COLLEGE    LIFE. 

*T.  14-18.    1794-1798. 

General  Influences,  44.  Appearance  and  Character,  49.  Wash- 
ington Allston,  50.  Literary  Societies,  54.  Infidelity,  61.  New 
Birth,  63.  Favourite  Studies,  64.  Politics,  66.  Choice  of  Profession, 
72.  College  Friendships,  75. 


X  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  IV.  . 

RICHMOND. 
jsr.  18-20.    1798-1800. 

David  Meade  Randolph,  79.  Letter  to  his  Mother,  80.  Society,  81. 
Slavery,  83.  Politics,  86.  School,  96.  Poverty,  98.  Studies,  99. 
Musing,  104.  Enthusiasm,  108.  Perfect  Society,  111.  Preparation 
for  the  Ministry,  120.  Self-consecration,  128.  Return,  131. 

CHAPTER  V. 

STUDIES   AND    SETTLEMENT. 
JET.  20-23.     1800-1803. 

Domestic  Character,  132.  Self-discipline,  133.  Rev.  Dr.  Hopkins, 
136.  Regent  at  Harvard  University,  143.  Theological  Studies,  145. 
Habits  as  a  Student,  151.  Theological  Views,  160.  First  Sermon, 
162.  Invitation  to  settle,  164.  Ordination,  171. 


PART  II. 

CHAPTER  I. 

EARLY  MINISTRY. 

JJT.  23-34.     1803-1814. 

Seriousness,  177.  Private  Papers,  185.  Removal  of  his  Family  to 
Boston,  196.  Disinterestedness,  197.  Illness,  205.  Power  as  a 
Preacher,  207.  Character  as  a  Pastor,  207.  Friends,  Rev.  Dr.  Kirk- 
land,  Rev.  J.  S.  Buckminster,  Rev.  S.  C.  Thacher,  216.  Correspond- 
ence, 221.  Charities,  235.  Political  Sermons,  241.  Manners,  243. 
The  Good  Minister,  244. 

CHAPTER  II. 

SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 
-ST.  23-34.     1803-1814. 
Moral  and  Mental  Unity,  253.     The  Key-note,  254.     SECTION  FIBST, 


CONTENTS.  XI 

— Religion,  255.  SECTION  SECOND, — Human  Nature,  275.  SECTION 
THIRD, — Christ  and  Christianity,  296.  SECTION  FOURTH, — Society, 
318. 

CHAPTER  III. 

THE   UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

Holiness,  Truth,  Humanity,  347.  Letters  to  Friends,  349.  Free- 
dom of  Inquiry,  366.  True  Humility,  370.  Sinfulness  of  Infants, 
379.  Dangers  of  Liberality,  381.  Letter  to  Rev.  S.  C.  Thacher,  385. 
Remarks  on  Rev.  Dr.  Worcester's  Letter,  401.  Remarks  on  Rev.  Dr. 
Worcester's  Second  Letter,  411.  Christian  Union,  418.  Christian 
Liberty,  419.  Berry  Street  Conference,  423.  Congregationalism,  430. 


CORRIGENDA 


Page      2,  line  10,  for  to  the  ocean,  read  and  the  ocean. 
84,  line  10,  for  feudalism,  read  barbarism. 
108,  line  27,  for  virtue  for,  read  virtue  in. 
191,  line    8,  substitute  a  full  stop  for  the  comma  at  the  word  end. 
241,  line    2,  for  Ca  ira,  read  Qa  ira. 
251,/oraet.  23-33.  1803-1813,  readxt.  23-34.  1803-1814. 
317,  line  16,  for  Christ's  unity  was  established,  such  a  church, 
read  Christ's  church  was  established,  such  a  unity. 


MEMOIR. 

PART  I. 


MEMOIR. 

PART    I. 
CHAPTER  I. 

PARENTAGE    AND    BIRTH. 

1780. 

THE  island  of  Rhode  Island,  a  brief  sketch  of  whose 
scenery  seems  the  befitting  introduction  to  the  memoir 
of  a  man,  formed  so  much  under  its  influence,  and  who, 
late  in  life,  and  on  a  sacred  occasion,  said — "  Amidst 
these  scenes  allow  me  to  thank  God  that  this  beautiful 
island  was  the  place  of  my  birth,"  * — lies  at  the  south- 
eastern extremity  of  the  state  of  Rhode  Island.  On  the 
north,  east,  and  west  it  is  surrounded  by  Narragansett 
bay,  while  its  southern  point  is  open  to  the  sea.  To 
a  spectator  upon  the  main-land  or  in  a  boat,  it  presents 
an  image  of  singular  serenity,  with  its  gently  graded 
surface  sloping  downward  on  every  side  from  the 
central  ridge, — its  fresh  green  pastures  and  meadows 
dotted  with  high  conical  haystacks, — its  harvest  fields 
and  orchard  plots  marked  off  by  regular  stone  walls, 

*  Works,  vol.  iv.  p.  337.     (American  Edition.)     "  Discourse,  at  the 
Dedication  of  the  Unitarian  Congregational  Church,  Newport,  1836." 
VOL.   I.  f  B 


2  PARENTAGE    AND    BIRTH. 

— its  farm-houses,  weather-stained  or  white,  with  gar- 
dens and  inclosures,  scattered  at  intervals,  — and  its 
windmills  waving  their  long  arms  upon  the  upper 
grounds.  Its  length  is  about  fifteen  miles,  and  a  drive 
along  the  summit  offers  a  succession  of  loveliest  pano- 
ramas from  Quaker  hill  on  the  north,  where  the  Narra- 
gansett  bay  is  seen  spreading  out  its  silvery  sheet, 
sprinkled  with  islets  and  stretching  far  inland,  to  Mian- 
tonomah  hill  at  the  south,  which  overlooks  the  spires 
and  shipping  of  Newport,  to  the  ocean  spreading  far  be- 
yond, with  sails  and  gleams  of  sunshine  or  fog-banks  on 
the  horizon.  The  breadth  of  the  prospects,  the  wide  tracts 
of  water,  the  ever- varying  cloud  scenery  and  softness  of 
the  atmosphere,  the  reflected  lights  from  bays  and  ocean, 
the  looming  up  and  vanishing  of  distant  headlands,  the 
shutting  in  and  opening  of  curtains  of  mist,  and  the 
verdure  kept  bright  by  continual  dampness,  refresh  the 
landscape  with  charms  which  every  hour  and  season 
change.  Along  the  shores  are  several  glens,  overhung 
with  groves,  where  streams  wear  away  the  soil  and  leave 
the  naked  rocks,  and  at  whose  mouths  are  pebbly  mar- 
gins, strewn  with  shells  and  sea-weed,  offering  pleasant 
walks,  and  views  across  the  water  to  the  neighbouring 
coasts.  At  the  south  juts  out  a  neck  upon  whose  crags 
and  ledges  the  surf  breaks,  in  calm  weather  even,  with 
a  glory  of  foam  and  spray,  and  in  storms  with  awful 
magnificence.  While  further  to  the  east  extend  beaches 
of  three  miles  or  more  in  length,  lying  broadly  open  to 
the  Atlantic,  where  the  green  waves  curl  and  dash  with 
every  tide,  and  across  whose  shelving  sands,  after  a 
southern  gale,  the  long  rolling  billows  sweep  with  a 
roar  that  may  be  heard  for  many  miles. 

Newport,  the  chief  town  on  the  island,  was,  before 


NEWPORT.  3 

the  Kevolution,  quite  a  prosperous  commercial  capital, 
and  after  the  war  became  the  seat  of  government  of  the 
state  of  Rhode  Island.  It  was,  as  it  now  is,  a  place 
of  frequent  resort  for  strangers,  especially  from  the 
south,  who  came  to  pass  there  the  summer  months,  at- 
tracted hy  the  delightful  climate,  the  ocean  and  rural 
scenery,  the  pleasures  of  sea-hathing,  and  the  liberal, 
even  luxurious,  hospitalities  of  the  citizens.  The  pre- 
sence of  French  and  English  officers  during  the  revo- 
lutionary struggle,  gave  new  stimulants  to  the  social 
tendencies  of  the  inhabitants,  and  polished  the  already 
somewhat  stately  courtesy  of  their  manners.  Wealthy 
merchants,  professional  men,  established  for  eminence 
of  talent,  in  the  then  most  important  town  of  Rhode 
Island,  successful  sea-captains  retired  from  service,  and 
residents  drawn  thither  by  motives  of  health  and  enjoy- 
ment, formed  a  society  not  wanting  in  refinement,  fond 
of  pleasantry,  and  very  cordial.  A  more  than  usual 
proportion  of  eccentric  characters  also  gave,  by  quaint 
talk  and  extravagant  ways,  a  dash  of  originality  to  the 
otherwise  somewhat  dull  proprieties  of  the  place.  It 
is  remembered  too,  that,  owing  partly  to  the  effect  of 
French  liberalism,  partly  to  the  licence  of  speech  so 
common  among  seafaring  men,  profanity,  at  that 
period  indeed  a  general  vice,  was  in  most  classes  ha- 
bitual ;  and  that,  from  the  influence  of  the  West  India 
trade,  as  well  as  from  the  custom  of  the  time,  intemper- 
ance abounded.  On  the  other  hand,  exact  attention 
was  paid  to  sacred  seasons  and  observances,  somewhat 
of  the  old  Puritanic  sternness  was  inculcated  as  evi- 
dence of  a  godly  spirit,  and  the  prevalent  tone  of 
preaching  was  serious,  perhaps  even  gloomy.  The 

B  2 


4  PARENTAGE    AND    BIRTH. 

principles  of  free  thought  and  speech,  however,  trans- 
mitted hy  the  magnanimous  and  wise  Roger  Williams 
through  the  whole  state  of  which  he  was  founder,  as 
well  as  hy  Mrs.  Anne  Hutchinson  and  Gov.  Codding- 
ton,  who  with  their  friends  first  settled  the  island,  and 
hy  Samuel  Gorton  and  his  followers, — the  liberal  tem- 
per every  where  engendered  by  the  war  for  independ- 
ence,— and  the  discussions  awakened  by  the  scepticism 
of  the  age,  were  hostile  to  bigotry  in  theological  opi- 
nions, or  to  irksome  restraints  in  conduct.  If,  finally, 
it  is  considered  that  the  town  was  alive  with  the  bustle 
of  successful  enterprize,  not  then  diverted  into  other 
channels,  and  that  its  citizens  were  warmly  interested 
in  the  political  controversies  of  the  time,  a  sufficiently 
accurate  notion  may  be  formed  of  the  moral  atmo- 
sphere of  Newport. 

It  was  here,  that,  on  the  7th  of  April,  1780,  WILLIAM 
ELLERY  CHANNING,  the  third  child  of  WILLIAM  CHAN 
NING  and  LUCY  ELLERY,  was  born. 

His  grand-parents,  upon  the  father's  and  the  mother's 
side  alike,  were  persons  of  more  than  common  energy, 
both  in  character  and  intelligence. 

William  Ellery,  his  mother's  father,  was  a  man  of 
singular  heartiness,  honesty,  good  sense,  and  sim- 
plicity. "  Graduated  at  Harvard  College  in  1747,  he 
entered  upon  business  as  a  merchant  in  his  native  town, 
Newport,  which  then  offered  every  encouragement  to  an 
enterprising  man,  and  was  full  of  attractions  to  one  of 
his  social  temper.  He  married,  early  in  life,  Ann,  the 
daughter  of  Judge  Eemington,  of  Cambridge,  Massa- 
chusetts, an  excellent  woman,  prudent,  affable,  and 
hospitable,  ever  watchful  over  her  children,  and  careful 


WILLIAM    ELLERY.  0 

that  her  husband  should  find  no  place  so  agreeable  to 
him  as  his  home."  * 

An  anecdote  of  their  married  life  pleasantly  shows 
the  character  of  each,  and  the  quality  of  their  affection. 

"  It  was  Mr.  Ellery's  custom  to  spend  his  evenings  with 
a  party  of  young  friends  at  some  place  of  convivial  resort, 
and  it  is  enough  to  say  of  their  amusements  that  they  were 
any  thing  but  intellectual,  and  just  suited  to  make  one's 
home  the  last  place  he  would  look  to  for  his  pleasures, 
and,  of  course,  the  very  place  where  duty  itself  must  soon 
become  irksome.  It  was  an  essential  part  of  domestic 
economy  at  that  time,  for  the  matron  to  write  upon  the 
margin  or  blank  leaves  of  her  almanack,  any  of  the  me- 
morable occurrences  in  the  daily  experience  of  the  house- 
hold. One  day  his  wife  had  recorded  as  its  most  precious 
event,  and  with  expressions  of  tenderness  and  gratitude, 
that  her  husband  had  passed  the  evening  with  her  and  her 
children.  This,  not  many  days  after,  fell  under  his  eye, 
but  he  said  not  a  word.  If  there  was  any  upbraiding,  it 
was  all  from  his  own  heart.  The  same  evening  he  re- 
turned to  his  usual  haunt,  and  at  once  announced  to  his 
friends  that  he  had  come  to  take  his  parting  cup  with 
them,  and  that  hereafter  he  should  seek  his  evening  plea- 
sures at  home.  Some  disbelieved,  others  scoffed ;  could 
this  be  true  of  a  man  of  his  gaiety  and  spirit  ?  But  their 
surprise  and  boisterous  ridicule  he  was  prepared  for,  and 
true  to  his  purpose  and  word  he  left  them,  and  was  ever 
after  a  thoroughly  domestic  man ;  and  such  was  the  effect 
of  his  resolution  upon  them,  that  in  no  long  time  the  party 
was  broken  up  and  succeeded  by  pleasant  meetings  in  each 
other's  families. 

"  He  often  told  this  little  incident  as  if  it  had  deeply 

*  "  Life  of  William  Ellery.  By  Edward  Tyrrel  Channing.  Sparks's 
American  Biography,  Vol.  VI.,  1st  Series." 


O  PARENTAGE    AND    BIRTH. 

moved  him.  He  had  connected  it  indissolubly  with  a  be- 
loved wife,  too  early  lost,  and  when  he  spoke  of  it,  there 
was  a  tremulousness  upon  his  lips,  and  a  placidness  of  ex- 
pression, which  denoted  his  never-ceasing  gratitude  and 
love.  Fifty  years  after  her  death,  he  says  of  her, — '  You 
read,  in  the  grave-yard  in  Cambridge,  the  epitaph  of  your 
grandmother,  a  woman  dear  to  me  and  to  all  who  were 
acquainted  with  her.  Alas !  I  was  too  early  deprived  of 
her  society.'  She  died  in  Cambridge,  September  7,  1764, 
at  the  age  of  thirty-nine,  and  her  husband  returned  to  his 
home  and  children  a  sorely  stricken  and  bowed  down  man  " 

The  following  letter  presents  a  spirited,  though 
certainly  not  a  flattered  sketch  of  Mr.  Ellery,  and  of 
his  life,  from  his  own  pen. 

"  Newport,  January,  1796. 

"  If  the  year  before  I  graduated  I  had  determined 
upon  law,  or  physic,  especially  the  latter,  I  am  persuaded 
that  I  should  have  led  a  more  profitable  and  useful  life 
than  I  have  done,  and  I  had  a  fine  opportunity  for  either 
study.  I  could  have  studied  the  law  under  Judge  Trow 
bridge,  with  whom  I  some-time  boarded,  or,  if  I  had  chosen 
the  study  of  physic,  my  father  would  have  placed  me  with 
a  physician ;  but  no  one  advised  me,  and  I  made  no  choice. 
I  entered  into  small  commerce  without  a  spirit  of  enter- 
prize  or  skill  in  trade ;  that  would  not  do ;  I  had  married 
a  wife,  and  could  not  submit  to  be  an  understrapper  to  a 
physician.  I  became  a  clerk  of  a  court ;  there  I  copied 
writs  and  declarations,  gained  some  knowledge  of  practice, 
and  stood  forth  a  dabbler,  when,  if  I  had,  at  the  time  I 
quitted  college,  gone  into  Mr.  Trowbridge's  office,  I  might 
have  been  a  regular,  well-instructed  attorney,  or  if  I  had 
studied  physic  I  might  have  been  a  skilful  practitioner.  I 
have  been  a  clerk  of  a  court,  a  quack  lawyer,  a  member 


WILLIAM    ELLERY.  7 

of  congress,  one  of  the  lords  of  the  admiralty,  a  judge, 
a  loan  officer,  and  finally  a  collector  of  the  customs,  and 
thus,  not  "without  many  difficulties,  but  as  honestly,  thank 
God,  as  most  men,  I  have  got  almost  through  the  journey 
of  a  varied  and  sometimes  anxious  life." 

"  Mr.  Ellery,  though  urging  the  young  to  keep  to  a  single 
business,  to  love  it,  and  find  distinction  in  it,  and  though 
inclined  in  his  own  habits  to  steady,  systematic  application, 
was  obliged  to  give  up  merchandize  in  the  time  of  embar- 
rassing revenue  acts  and  non-importation  agreements,  when 
there  was  little  or  nothing  for  him  to  do  but  to  join  heart 
and  hand,  as  he  did,  with  the  '  Sons  of  Liberty,'  and  in  1 770 
began  the  practice  of  the  law.  He  was,  as  he  says  in  a  let- 
ter, a  '  staunch  friend  to  political  liberty,  and  that  liberty 
with  which  the  Gospel  has  made  us  free.'  And  his  sense 
of  the  worth  of  freedom  could  be  the  more  relied  on,  as  it 
did  not  spring  from  eager  sympathy  with  the  sudden  excite- 
ment of  the  day,  but  from  principles  which  his  experience 
and  reflection  had  prudently  developed  and  confirmed.  It 
was  a  deep-seated  passion  and  a  moral  preference.  To  for- 
ward political  liberty  was,  in  his  view,  to  follow  every  indi- 
vidual to  his  own  heart  and  home  with  a  blessing.  Accord- 
ing to  his  own  strong  language,  he  placed  his  obligations  to 
uphold  liberty  as  high  as  those  which  bound  him  to  his  wife 
and  children.  He  had  thus  far  held  no  political  or  judicial 
office ;  but  he  was  known  to  the  people  for  his  firmness, 
judgment,  and  devotion  to  the  public  cause;  had  shown 
himself  a  public-hearted  man  in  the  first  struggles  against 
encroachments  upon  the  rights  of  the  colonies  ;  had  been 
upon  important  committees,  whose  business  was  to  procure 
the  repeal  of  oppressive  revenue  acts ;  was  acquainted  with 
the  active  spirits  who  were  preparing  themselves  and  the 
people  for  a  separation  from  the  mother  country  ;  and  had 
inspired  a  general  confidence  in  his  fitness  for  a  high  civil 
trust,  let  the  aspect  of  affairs  be  ever  so  perplexing.  Thus 


8  PARENTAGE    AND    BIRTH. 

approved,  he  was  chosen  as  delegate  of  Rhode  Island  in  the 
memorable  Congress  of  1776,  and  with  his  venerable  col- 
league, Stephen  Hopkins,  set  his  name  to  the  Declaration 
of  Independence. 

"  Mr.  Ellery  was  in  Congress  from  1776  to  1786,  with 
the  exception  of  the  years  1780  and  1782  ;  and  while  there 
had  universal  confidence  for  his  prudent,  straightforward, 
practical  view  of  affairs,  and  for  his  consistent,  independent, 
decided  conduct.  Besides  the  respect  which  his  abilities 
and  character  thus  obtained,  his  social  spirit  and  powers  of 
conversation,  his  wit,  pleasantry,  and  good-humoured  satire, 
which  could  enliven  a  party  of  friends  at  their  lodgings,  or 
sweep  away  the  fallacies  and  whims  of  members  in  a  debate, 
brought  him  into  delightful  intimacy  with  leading  men. 

"  His  character  bore  the  marks  of  habitual  self-inspection 
and  self-resistance.  Humility  was  the  virtue  which  he 
seemed  to  prize  as  the  most  comprehensive  and  productive. 
His  effort  was  to  bring  every  thought  and  desire  into  sub- 
jection before  God,  and  to  find  security  and  motive  in  a  fixed 
sense  of  his  deficiencies  and  his  obligations.  This  constant 
study  of  humility  was  his  light  and  strength.  It  cleared 
and  simplified  the  purpose  of  human  life.  It  gave  him  more 
and  more  the  command  of  his  faculties,  and  the  exercise  of 
his  affections,  and  the  power  of  devoting  himself  to  duty. 
It  showed  him  on  what  false  principles  men  are  commonly 
pronounced  great,  and  how  monstrous  are  arrogance  and  op- 
pression in  a  mortal.  But  this  moral  warfare  never  threw 
an  air  of  constraint  or  austerity  upon  his  intercourse  with 
others.  It  seemed  as  if  his  spirits  were  kept  elastic  by 
his  constant  guard  over  them.  His  very  kindness  and  gen- 
tleness had  none  of  the  inertness  of  mere  good  temper,  but 
were  animated  by  an  active,  cherished  principle  of  love, 
which  discriminated  its  objects  and  was  all  alive  for  the  hap- 
piness of  another. 

"  In  the  pursuit  of  truth  he  seemed  more  anxious  for  the 
certainty  than  the  amount  and  variety  of  results.  He  was 


WILLIAM    ELLERY.  9 

not  fond  of  indulging  in  conjectures,  that  he  might  fill  the 
void  where  he  had  in  vain  looked  for  satisfying  truth  ;  nor 
was  he  unhappy  because  of  the  uncertainties  which  cannot 
be  cleared  up  in  an  imperfect  state  of  being.  His  feelings 
and  wishes,  and  every  extraneous  or  accidental  circum- 
stance, were  as  if  they  did  not  exist,  in  his  sober-minded 
inquiry.  Or,  rather,  the  very  influences  that  are  most  apt 
to  mislead  did  but  sound  the  alarm  to  him  to  be  single- 
hearted,  and  made  his  power  of  discerning  the  keener. 
He  had  the  plainest  common  sense,  and  the  most  prudent 
judgment  in  common  affairs  ;  and  not  so  much  from  having 
lived  long  in  the  world,  as  from  his  right  temper  of  mind, 
and  his  habit  of  going  far  into  the  reason  of  things.  This 
honesty  or  fairness  of  mind  was  his  great  distinction  and 
an  explanation  of  his  character.  It  was  a  proof  of  his  moral 
and  intellectual  vigour.  It  was  a  religious  principle.  It 
ran  through  all  his  studies  and  experience,  restraining  hiui 
from  injustice  and  compelling  him  to  condemn  injustice ; 
opening  the  way  through  ancient  errors  of  whatever  kind, 
and  for  the  admission  of  light  from  whatever  quarter ;  and 
making  it  absolutely  impossible  that  he  should  be  a  partisan 
or  idolater  in  any  thing. 

"  His  kindness  and  warmth  of  affection  were  especially 
manifest  in  his  intercourse  with  the  young.  A  plain  man, 
in  years,  living  in  retirement  and  obtruding  his  opinions 
upon  no  one,  he  drew  them  to  him  as  if  he  were  their  de- 
pendence, and  they  felt  that  they  owed  to  him  not  only 
some  of  their  best  remembered  seasons  of  pleasure,  but  in 
no  small  degree  the  direction  and  colouring  of  their  thoughts. 
When  he  saw  any  thing  to  blame  he  spoke  plainly  and 
earnestly,  and  suffered  no  weakness  of  affection  to  conceal 
or  impair  the  force  of  what  he  thought  it  his  duty  to  say. 
If  they  neglected  his  admonitions  and  disappointed  his 
expectations,  his  regret  was  unmingled  with  selfishness, 
and  his  affection  unabated.  They  might  need  it  the  more." 

13    3 


10  PARENTAGE    AND    BIRTH. 

After  leaving  Congress,  Mr.  Ellery  was  for  many 
years  collector  of  the  customs  in  Newport,  where  he 
lived  to  the  age  of  ninety-three,  beloved  hy  a  large 
circle  of  relatives  and  friends,  and  affectionately  ho- 
noured hy  his  fellow-citizens.  He  was  remarkable,  to 
the  very  close  of  his  long  life,  for  youthfulness  of  feel- 
ing, brightness  of  mind,  and  ready  interest  in  nature, 
people,  literature  and  events. 

This  sketch  of  the  grandfather  will  be  found  to  illus- 
trate in  no  unimportant  degree  both  the  character  and 
intellect  of  his  distinguished  grandson ;  for  William 
but  recorded  his  own  experience,  when,  after  he  had 
reached  mature  life,  he  wrote  to  Mr.  Ellery, — "  You 
have  hardly  a  grandchild  who  cannot  trace  hack  some 
of  his  sentiments  and  principles  to  your  instructive 
and  condescending  conversation." 

John  Channing,  William's  grandfather  on  the  pater- 
nal side,  was  a  respectable,  and,  till  towards  the  close 
of  life,  a  prosperous  merchant  of  Newport.  He  was 
son  of  John  Channing,  of  Dorsetshire,  England, — the 
first  of  the  name  who  came  to  America, — and  of  Mary 
Antram,  who  arrived  together  in  Boston  in  1712,  and 
were  soon  after  married.  The  wife  of  John  Channing, 
Jun.,  was  Mary  Chaloner  (the  widow  of  Dr.  James  Ro- 
binson, physician),  whom  the  elderly  people  of  New- 
port well  remembered  for  her  energy  of  character  and 
dignity  of  manner.  They  still  describe  her  as  sitting, 
of  an  afternoon,  behind  the  counter  of  the  small  shop, 
— by  means  of  which  she  supported  her  family  in  her 
widowhood, — dressed  with  great  precision,  busily  knit- 
ting, and  receiving  her  customers  or  visitors  with  an 
air  of  formal  courtesy  that  awed  the  young  and  com- 
manded general  respect.  She  was  a  high-spirited  and 


WILLIAM    CHANNING.  11 

ardent,  yet  religious  and  conscientious  woman,  and  re- 
markable for  activity  and  method. 

William  Channing,  their  second  son,  was  born  in 
Newport,  June  ]  1,  1751,  and  educated  at  Nassau  Hall, 
Princeton  College,  New  Jersey,  where  he  graduated  in 
1 769.  He  read  law  with  Oliver  Arnold  at  Providence ; 
in  1771,  began  the  practice  of  his  profession  at  New- 
port; in  1773,  married  Lucy  Ellery,  the  daughter  of 
William  Ellery ;  in  1777,  became  attorney- general  of 
his  native  state,  and  upon  the  adoption  of  the  Federal 
Constitution,  without  any  solicitation  on  his  part,  was 
appointed  to  the  office  of  district  attorney  for  the  dis- 
trict of  Rhode  Island. 

Hon.  Asher  Bobbins,  late  member  of  the  Senate  of 
the  United  States  from  Ehode  Island,  writes  of  him 
thus : — • 

"  Mr.  Channing  was  very  well  read  in  the  law,  especially 
in  the  forms  of  pleading ;  law  cases  were  his  favourite  read- 
ing, even  for  amusement.  He  had  a  large  library,  and  one 
very  well  selected. 

"  He  interested  himself  much  in  state  politics,  and  his 
office  was  the  central  point  of  rendezvous,  where  the  lead- 
ing men  congregated  for  their  consultations. 

"  He  was  very  popular  in  the  state,  was  attorney-general 
and  district  attorney  at  the  same  time,  and  held  both  offices 
at  the  time  of  his  death. 

"  His  manner  of  speaking  at  the  bar  was  rapid,  vehe- 
ment, and  impressive  ;  never  studied,  nor  exactly  metho- 
dical in  his  pleadings ;  but  he  always  came  well  prepared 
as  to  matter  and  authority.  He  had  an  extensive  practice, 
attended  all  the  courts  regularly,  and  was  considered,  for 
several  years  before  his  death,  as  the  leading  counsel  of  the 
state. 


12  PARENTAGE    AND    BIRTH. 

"  In  person  he  was  of  the  middle  stature,  well  made, 
erect,  and  of  an  open  countenance  ;  he  was  lively  and  plea- 
sant in  his  conversation,  and  much  disposed  to  social  inter- 
course ;  he  was  hospitable  and  kind-hearted.  His  agreeable 
manner  was  one  great  source  of  his  general  popularity. 

"  In  dress  he  was  not  remarkable  for  any  particular ;  it 
was  always  proper  and  becoming,  though  not  an  object  of 
much  attention  with  him  ;  the  colour  was  commonly  black ; 
indeed,  I  do  not  recollect  ever  to  have  seen  him  in  any 
other. 

"  His  temper  was  remarkably  good,  as  were  his  manners, 
mild,  liberal,  generous  ;  his  habits  were  also  correct,  tem- 
perate, industrious,  mindful  and  observant  of  all  the  duties 
and  proprieties  of  life." 

In  addition,  his  father-in-law,  Mr.  Ellery,  says  of 
him  : — 

"  He  repeatedly  served  as  a  deputy  for  his  native  town, 
and  such  was  his  regard  for  its  interests,  that  he  did  not 
decline  that  service  until,  by  the  extensiveness  of  his  prac- 
tice, and  the  increase  of  his  family,  he  was  compelled  to 
give  to  them  his  whole  attention. 

"  He  early  became  the  head  of  a  family.  He  married  in 
the  twenty-third  year  of  his  age,  and  performed  the  offices 
and  charities  of  a  husband  and  father  with  strict,  constant, 
and  tender  attention,  and  was  beloved  and  respected. 

"  The  law  of  kindness  and  benevolence  was  in  his  heart 
and  on  his  tongue.  The  persons  employed  by  him  as  do- 
mestics, and  in  other  services,  he  treated  with  great  hu- 
manity, and  rewarded  with  a  liberal  punctuality.  He  was 
an  obedient  and  respectful  son,  and  a  most  affectionate  bro- 
ther and  friend.  To  the  poor  he  was  compassionate.  The 
needy  never  went  away  from  his  house  empty.  His  table 
and  his  purse  were  always  open  to  their  wants,  and  his  mu- 


WILLIAM    CHANNING.  13 

nificence  was  ever  accompanied  with  a  sweetness  in  the 
manner,  which  doubled  the  obligations  of  gratitude. 

"  His  religious  sentiments  were  liberal.  He  was  par- 
ticularly attached  to  the  Congregational  denomination  of 
Christians,  but  he  treated  all  good  men  of  all  denominations 
with  kindness  and  respect.  He  generously  contributed  to 
the  support  of  Christian  worship  in  the  society  to  which  he 
belonged,  and  countenanced  and  encouraged  it  by  a  con- 
stant and  reverential  attendance,  and  the  ministers  of  re- 
ligion experienced  his  hospitality. 

"  His  political  sentiments  were  displayed  in  a  warm 
attachment  to  the  rights  of  mankind,  chastened  by  a  love 
of  peace  and  order. 

"  His  countenance  and  deportment  expressed  the  amiable- 
ness  and  benevolence  of  his  disposition,  and  his  morals  cor- 
responded with  his  manners.  He  was  temperate  and  ho- 
nest ;  he  was  courteous  and  respectful.  As  he  keenly  felt 
the  distresses  of  mankind,  so  was  he  as  strongly  disposed 
to  relieve  their  sufferings.  He  looked  down  with  such  pity 
on  the  poor  and  afflicted  as  encouraged  them  to  look  up  to 
him  for  succour  as  to  a  brother." 

These  reminiscences  of  the  father  are  confirmed  and 
completed  by  the  following  beautiful  notice,  written  in 
1841,  by  his  son  William  *: — 

"  Boston,  December  18,  1841. 

"  My  recollections  of  my  father  are  imperfect,  as  he  died 
when  I  was  thirteen  years  of  age,  and  I  had  been  sent  from 
home  before  that  event.  But  the  many  testimonies  which 
I  have  received  to  his  eminence  as  a  lawyer,  as  well  as  to 
his  private  virtues,  make  me  desirous  that  there  should  be 
some  memorial  of  him. 

"  My  father  retained  much  attachment  to  Princeton  Col- 

*  "  Memoirs  of  the  Rhode  Island  Bar,"  by  Wilkins  Updike,  Esq. 


14  PARENTAGE    AND    BIRTH. 

lege,  where  he  was  educated,  so  that  he  thought  of  sending 
me  there.  He  was  the  classmate  and  friend  of  Samuel  S. 
Smith,  afterwards  distinguished  as  a  theologian,  and  as  the 
president  of  that  institution.  In  the  last  part  of  his  col- 
legiate days  he  enjoyed  the  instructions  of  the  celebrated 
Dr.  Witherspoon. 

"  His  early  marriage,  and  the  rapid  increase  of  his 
family,  obliged  him  to  confine  himself  rigidly  to  his  pro- 
fession. He  was  too  busy  to  give  much  time  to  general 
reading,  or  even  to  his  family.  Still  I  have  distinct  im- 
pressions of  his  excellence  in  his  social  relations.  He  was 
the  delight  of  the  circle  in  which  he  moved.  His  mother, 
brothers,  and  sisters  leaned  on  him  as  on  no  other.  I  well 
remember  the  benignity  of  his  countenance  and  voice.  At 
the  same  time  he  was  a  strict  disciplinarian  at  home,  and, 
according  to  the  mistaken  notions  of  that  time,  kept  me  at 
too  great  a  distance  from  him.  In  truth,  the  prevalent 
notions  of  education  were  much  more  imperfect  than  in  our 
day. 

"  I  often  went  into  courts,  but  was  too  young  to  under- 
stand my  father's  merits  in  the  profession ;  but  I  had  always 
heard  of  him  as  standing  at  its  head.  My  brother  says  that 
Judge  Dawes  used  to  speak  of  his  style  and  manner  as 
'  mellifluous,'  but  at  times  he  was  vehement,  for  I  well 
recollect  that  I  left  the  court-house  in  fear,  at  hearing  him 
indignantly  reply  to  what  seemed  to  him  unworthy  language- 
in  the  opposite  counsel. 

"  His  parents  were  religious,  and  the  impressions  made 
on  his  young  mind  were  never  lost.  He  was  the  main  pillar 
of  the  religious  society  to  which  he  belonged.  The  house 
of  worship  had  suffered  much  from  the  occupation  of  New- 
port by  the  British  army,  so  as  to  be  unfit  for  use ;  and  I 
recollect  few  things  in  my  childhood  more  distinctly  than 
his  zeal  in  restoring  it  to  its  destination,  and  in  settling  a 
minister.  I  cannot  doubt  that  his  religious  character  re- 


WILLIAM    CHANNING.  15 

ceived  important  aid  from  the  ministry  and  friendship  of 
Dr.  Styles,  who  was  as  eminent  for  piety  as  learning,  and 
under  whose  teachings  he  grew  up.  He  had  a  deep,  I  may 
say  peculiar,  abhorrence  of  the  vice  of  profaneness ;  and 
such  was  his  influence,  that  his  large  family  of  sons  escaped 
this  taint  to  a  remarkable  degree,  though  brought  up  in  the 
midst  of  it.  I  recollect,  with  gratitude,  the  strong  impres- 
sion which  he  made  on  my  own  mind.  I  owed  it  to  him 
that,  though  living  in  the  atmosphere  of  this  vice,  no  pro- 
fane word  ever  passed  my  lips. 

"  On  one  subject  I  think  of  his  state  of  mind  with  sor- 
row. His  father,  like  most  respectable  merchants  of  that 
place,  possessed  slaves  imported  from  Africa.  They  were 
the  domestics  of  the  family  ;  and  my  father  had  no  sensi- 
bility to  the  evil.  I  remember,  however,  with  pleasure,  the 
affectionate  relation  which  subsisted  between  him  and  the 
Africans  (most  of  them  aged),  who  continued  to  live  with 
my  grandfather.  These  were  liberated  after  the  revolution ; 
but  nothing  could  remove  them  from  their  old  home,  where 
they  rather  ruled  than  served.  One  of  the  females  used  to 
speak  of  herself  as  the  daughter  of  an  African  prince  ;  and 
she  certainly  had  much  of  the  bearing  of  royalty.  The 
dignity  of  her  aspect  and  manner  bespoke  an  uncommon 
woman.  She  was  called  Duchess,  probably  on  account  of 
the  rank  she  had  held  in  her  own  country.  I  knew  her 
only  after  she  was  free  and  had  an  establishment  of  her 
own.  Now  and  then  she  invited  all  the  children  of  the 
various  families  with  which  she  was  connected  to  a  party, 
and  we  were  liberally  feasted  under  her  hospitable  roof. 
My  father  won  the  hearts  of  all  his  domestics.  One  of  the 
sincerest  mourners,  at  his  death,  was  an  excellent  woman 
who  had  long  lived  with  us,  and  whom  he  honoured  for  her 
piety. 

"  I  recollect  distinctly  the  great  interest  he  took  in  the 
political  questions  which  agitated  the  country.  Though  but 


16  PARENTAGE    AND    BIRTH. 

eight  or  nine  years  of  age,  I  was  present  when  the  Rhode 
Island  Convention  adopted  the  Federal  Constitution  ;  and 
the  enthusiasm  of  that  moment  I  can  never  forget.  My 
father  entered  with  his  whole  heart  into  that  unbounded 
exultation.  He  was  one  of  the  most  devoted  members  of  the 
Federal  party.  At  the  beginning  of  the  French  Revolution, 
he  shared  in  the  universal  hope  and  joy  which  it  inspired  ; 
but  I  well  recollect  the  sadness  with  which  he  talked  to  us, 
one  Sunday  afternoon,  of  the  execution  of  Louis  the  Six- 
teenth ;  and  from  that  moment  his  hopes  died. 

"  You  speak  of  the  testimony  borne  to  him  by  the  late 
Elisha  R.  Potter,  Esq.  My  father  was  among  the  first  to 
discover  the  abilities  of  that  remarkable  man  ;  and  I  remem- 
ber the  kindness  with  which  he  used  to  receive  him.  His 
spirit  was,  in  truth,  the  kindest.  He  was  ever  ready  to  see 
and  appreciate  superior  talents,  and  to  attach  himself  to 
worth.  His  friendship  seemed  to  me  singularly  strong  for 
a  man  so  immersed  in  business.  Among  his  friends  were 
George  Champlin,  Esq.,  a  politician  of  singular  capacity, 
and  who  was  said  to  have  ruled  the  state  for  years  without 
forfeiting  his  integrity  ;  Dr.  Isaac  Senter,  a  physician  of 
extensive  practice,  who  was  thought  to  unite,  with  great 
experience,  a  rare  genius  in  his  profession,  and  whose  com- 
manding figure  rises  before  me  at  the  distance  of  forty-five 
years,  as  a  specimen  of  manly  beauty,  worthy  the  chisel  of 
a  Grecian  sculptor ;  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Hitchcock,  of  Pro- 
vidence, a  man  of  great  sweetness  of  temper,  and  who  de- 
serves the  grateful  remembrance  of  that  city  for  his  zealous 
efforts  in  the  cause  of  public  education.  My  father  took  a 
great  pleasure  in  the  society  of  ministers,  and  always  wel- 
comed them  to  his  hospitable  dwelling. 

"  I  remember  his  tastes  with  pleasure.  He  had  two 
gardens,  one  of  them  quite  large,  and  as  he  sought  to  have 
every  thing  which  he  cultivated  of  the  best  kind,  our  table, 
otherwise  simple,  was,  in  this  respect,  luxurious.  He  was 


WILLIAM    CHANNING.  17 

not  satisfied  with  what  contented  his  neighbours,  but  intro- 
duced new  varieties  of  vegetables  into  the  town.  He  also 
took  great  interest  in  sacred  music.  On  Sunday  evening, 
the  choir  of  the  congregation,  which  included  most  of  the 
younger  members,  and  other  amateurs,  met  in  his  office  for 
practice  in  singing.  The  apartment,  somewhat  spacious, 
was  filled ;  and  the  animation  of  the  meeting,  to  which  his 
zeal  contributed  not  a  little,  made  the  occasion  one  of  my 
weekly  pleasures. 

"  As  far  as  I  can  trust  nay  recollections  of  my  father's 
person,  it  must  have  been  very  prepossessing  ;  but  to  me 
his  appearance  at  the  time  was  more  venerable  than 
beautiful.  His  head  was  bald;  and  his  cocked  hat,  and 
the  other  parts  of  his  dress,  which,  according  to  the  fashions 
of  the  day,  differed  much  from  the  costume  of  the  young, 
made  him  seem  from  the  first  an  old  man. 

"  He  prospered  in  life,  but  without  being  able  to  leave  a 
competence  to  his  large  family.  His  labours  were  great, 
but  I  have  no  recollection  of  seeing  him  depressed.  I 
should  place  him  among  the  happy.  He  was  taken  away 
in  the  midst  of  usefulness  and  hope.  The  disease  of  which 
he  died  was  not  understood.  I  remember  that  he  used  to 
complain  of  feelings  which  we  now  should  consider  as 
dyspepsia;  but  that  disease  was  little  thought  of  then,  and 
the  name  never  heard. 

"These  are  very  scanty  reminiscences;  but  as  I  hardly 
saw  my  father  after  reaching  my  twelfth  year,  and  as  nearly 
fifty  years  have  passed  since  that  time,  it  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at  that  I  can  recall  no  more  of  his  calm,  uniform 
life.  The  career  of  a  professional  man,  occupied  with  the 
support  of  a  large  family,  offers  no  great  events. 

"  I  little  thought,  when  I  began,  of  writing  so  much;  but 
the  pleasure  which  all  men  take  in  the  virtues  of  parents 
has  led  me  on  insensibly. 

"  My  father  died  before  I  could  requite  him  for  his  toils 


18  PARENTAGE    AND    BIRTH. 

for  rny  support  and  his  interest  in  my  moral  well-being ; 
and  I  feel  as  if,  in  the  present  instance,  I  was  discharging 
some  part,  though  a  very  small  one,  of  my  great  debt :  I 
owed  him  much,  and  it  is  not  my  smallest  obligation  that 
his  character  enables  me  to  join  affectionate  esteem  and 
reverence  with  my  instinctive  gratitude. 

"  Very  truly  yours, 

"W.  E.  CHANNTNG." 

Lucy  Ellery,  William's  mother,  resembled  her  father 
in  energy,  judgment,  practical  skill,  and  integrity. 
But  she  added  to  these  traits  a  tenderness  of  sensibility 
and  a  deep  enthusiasm,  which  threw  a  charm  of  romance 
over  her  conduct  and  conversation.  She  was  small  in 
person,  but  erect  in  bearing  and  elastic  in  movement ; 
and  strongly  marked  features,  with  a  singularly  bright 
and  penetrating  eye,  gave  her  an  air  of  self-reliance  and 
command.  Her  manner  was  generally  benignant,  often 
tenderly  affectionate,  and  marked  by  the  dignified 
courtesy  of  the  old  school;  but  if  pretension  and  fraud, 
in  any  of  their  manifold  disguises,  crossed  her  path, 
she  became  chillingly  reserved  and  blunt  to  the  verge 
of  severity.  Her  feelings  were  quick,  her  humour  was 
lively,  and  so  did  she  clothe  sagacious  thoughts  in 
quaint  dialect,  that  she  was  as  entertaining  a  companion 
as  she  was  a  wise  counsellor.  The  whole  tone  of  her 
mind  and  temper  was  original ;  blending,  in  a  rare 
union,  shrewdness  and  sympathy,  caution  and  fresh 
impulse,  devoted  generosity  and  strict  conscience,  stern 
straightforwardness  and  cordial  love.  In  a  word,  there 
was  rough  nobleness  in  all  her  ways,  which  irresistibly 
won  affection  and  respect,  and  made  her  influence 
powerful  for  good  on  all  within  her  sphere.  The  fol- 


LUCY   ELLERY.  19 

lowing  sketch,  by  her  son  William,  may  best  introduce 
her. 

"  The  most  remarkable  trait  in  my  mother's  character 
was  the  rectitude  and  simplicity  of  her  mind.  Perhaps  I 
have  never  known  her  equal  in  this  respect.  She  was  true 
in  thought,  word,  and  life.  She  had  the  firmness  to  see 
the  truth,  to  speak  it,  to  act  upon  it.  She  was  direct  in 
judgment  and  conversation,  and  in  my  long  intercourse 
with  her  I  cannot  recall  one  word  or  action  betraying  the 
slightest  insincerity.  She  had  keen  insight  into  character. 
She  was  not  to  be  imposed  upon  by  others,  and,  what  is 
rarer,  she  practised  no  imposition  on  her  own  mind.  She 
saw  things,  persons,  events,  as  they  were,  and  spoke  of 
them  by  their  right  names.  Her  partialities  did  not  blind 
her,  even  to  her  children.  Her  love  was  without  illusion. 
She  recognized  unerringly  and  with  delight,  fairness, 
honesty,  genuine  uprightness,  and  shrunk  as  by  instinct 
from  every  thing  specious,  the  factitious  in  character,  and 
plausible  manners." 

Born  of  parents  thus  rich  in  natural  gifts,  and  well 
trained,  William  inherited  a  physical  organization  at 
once  delicate  and  vigorous,  and  tendencies  of  heart  and 
mind  in  which  the  virtues  of  both  were  most  happily 
balanced.  He  is  remembered  as  having  been  an  infant 
of  rare  loveliness,  and  was  from  the  first  an  idol.  Such 
prophetic  affection  tends  naturally  to  bring  the  fulfil- 
ment of  its  hopes;  and  certainly,  in  the  present  in- 
stance, the  expectant  trust  of  the  mother  was  an 
exhaustless  incentive  to  the  son.  She  lived  for  more 
than  fifty  years  after  his  birth,  and  their  relation 
throughout  this  long,  and  for  the  most  part  unbroken, 
period  of  intercourse  was  as  beautiful  as  it  was  rich  in 
mutual  blessing. 


CHAPTER  II. 

BOYHOOD. 
JET.  1-14.     1780  1794. 

THE  earliest  description  given  of  William  is  from  an 
aged  relative,  who  says, — "  I  remember  him  as  a  hoy 
three  or  four  years  old,  with  brilliant  eyes,  glowing 
cheeks,  and  light-brown  hair  falling  in  curls  upon  his 
shoulders,  dressed  in  a  green  velvet  jacket,  with  ruffled 
collar  and  white  underclothes,  standing  by  his  mother's 
side  on  the  seat  of  the  pew,  and  looking  round  upon 
the  congregation.  I  thought  him  the  most  splendid 
child  I  ever  saw."  Allowance  must  of  course  be  made, 
in  our  estimate  of  such  a  sketch,  for  any  reflected  bright- 
ness which  success  in  after  life  may  have  thrown  upon 
the  memory.  But  all  testimony  confirms  this  impres- 
sion of  the  beaming  beauty  of  William's  childhood; 
and  to  those  who  have  associations  only  with  the 
wasted  form,  thin  features,  and  sunken  eyes  of  the 
preacher,  whose  spirit  seemed  about  to  cast  aside  the 
body,  this  picture  of  the  blooming  boy  will  not  be 
without  the  charm,  at  least,  of  contrast. 

Owing  to  his  mother's  poor  state  of  health,  the 
children  were  early  placed  at  school,  and  William  was 
sent  when  yet  so  young  that  he  was  often  carried  in  the 
arms  of  a  coloured  man.  One  of  his  first  recollections 
was  of  being  taken  to  the  school-room  one  morning 
after  the  good  mistress  had  died.  The  stillness  which 


SCHOOL-MISTRESS.  21 

prevailed  in  place  of  the  usual  bustle,  the  slow  steps, 
the  hushed  voices,  and  the  sight  of  the  dead  hody,  left 
a  feeling  of  awe  so  strong,  that  he  vividly  recalled  the 
scene  in  the  very  last  year  of  his  life. 

He  next  was  subjected  to  the  discipline  of  a  most 
rigid  dame,  who  used  to  enforce  order  by  means  of  a 
long  pole,  like  a  fishing  rod,  with  which  she  could  reach 
every  corner  in  the  room.  Of  this  chapter  in  his 
experience,  he  wrote,  many  years  afterward,  the  follow- 
ing humorous  account : — 

"  I  was  a  little  amused  with  the  objection  which  you 

say  the s  made  to  your  proposed  school,  that  you  want 

those  essential  qualifications  of  a  teacher, — gray  hairs  and 
spectacles.  This  objection  brought  back  to  my  mind  the 
venerable  school-mistress  under  whose  care  my  infant 
faculties  were  unfolded.  She,  indeed,  would  have  suited 

the s  to  a  hair.     Her  nose  was  peculiarly  privileged 

and  honoured,  for  it  bore  two  spectacles.  The  locks  which 
strayed  from  her  close  mob-cap  were  most  evidently  the 
growth  of  other  times.  She  sat  in  a  large  easy-chair,  and, 
unlike  the  insect  forms  of  modern  days,  she  filled  the 
capacious  seat.  Her  title  was  Madam,  a  title  which  she 
exclusively  enjoyed.  When  we  entered  her  door  we 
kissed  our  hands,  and  Madam  was  the  first  word  which 
escaped  our  lips.  But  I  would  not  have  you  suppose,  that 
there  was  nothing  but  a  title,  and  spectacles,  and  gray 
locks  to  insure  our  respect.  Madam  was  wiser  than  the 

s.     She  did  not  trust  chiefly  to  age.     On  the  right 

arm  of  her  easy-chair  there  reclined  what  to  common  eyes 
appeared  only  a  long>  round  stick;  but  so  piercing  was  its 
vision,  so  quick  its  hearing,  so  rapid  its  motions,  so  sud- 
denly did  it  reach  the  whispering  or  idle  delinquent,  that 
Ovid,  had  he  known  it,  would  have  been  strongly  tempted 
to  trace  it,  by  many  a  strange  metamorphosis,  back  to 


22  BOYHOOD. 

Argus,  or  some  other  watchful,  sleepless  being  of  ancient 
mythology.  We,  trembling  wights,  were  satisfied  with 
feeling,  and  had  no  curiosity  to  explore  its  hidden  pro- 
perties. Do  you  ask  where  this  mysterious  wand  is  to  be 
found?  I  fear  it  is  irrecoverably  lost.  The  storm  of  re- 
volution, which  has  so  lately  passed  over  us,  not  contented 
with  breaking  the  sceptres  and  hurling  down  the  thrones 
of  monarchs,  burst  into  the  school-room,  and  Madam's 
title  and  rod  were  swept  away  in  the  general  desolation." 

From  this  guardian  of  decorum  he  passed  into  the 
keeping  of  two  excellent  women  and  good  teachers, 
under  whose  care  he  improved  rapidly,  and  with  whom 
he  was  so  much  of  a  favourite  as  to  be  constantly  set  up 
as  a  model  for  the  other  children's  imitation.  The 
regard  in  which  he  was  held  by  his  young  companions, 
also,  was  pleasantly  shown  by  an  answer  given  to  the 
mistress,  when,  one  day,  as  usual,  she  said  to  an  unruly 
urchin, — "I  wish  in  my  heart  you  were  like  William 
Channing."  "Oh,"  exclaimed  the  poor  child,  "I  can't 
be  like  him,  it  is  not  half  so  hard  for  him  to  be  good  as 
it  is  for  me." 

As  he  grew  older,  William  was  advanced  to  the 
boarding  and  day  school  of  Mr.  Rogers,  which  was 
considered  the  best  in  the  town,  and  indeed  had  so  high 
a  reputation,  that  boys  from  a  distance,  especially  from 
the  South,  were  sent  to  his  charge.  It  was  the  habit 
of  that  time  to  use  flogging  as  the  common  penalty, 
and  no  master  would  then  have  responded,  as  all  good 
ones  must  now  do,  to  the  words  of  Vogel, — "  When  we 
teachers  become  fully  competent  to  our  work,  the 
necessity  of  corporeal  punishment  will  cease  alto- 
gether."* This  is  mentioned,  because  it  is  certain  that 

*  Hon.  Horace  Mann's  Seventh  Report. 


SCHOOL-DAYS.  23 

what  he  then  experienced  outraged  his  sensitive  honour, 
and  served  to  arouse  the  feeling  of  indignation  against 
any  form  of  violence  used  towards  children,  which 
grew  so  strong  in  him  in  later  years.  He  would  often 
tell  an  anecdote  of  a  little  boy  in  school  trying  to  shield 
with  his  arms  a  larger  one,  whom  the  master  was  about 
to  whip.  The  contrast  of  the  great  heart  with  the 
small  physical  power,  the  noble  position  of  the  young 
remonstrant  against  tyranny,  produced  an  indelible  im- 
pression upon  his  childish  imagination,  and  made  the 
severity  of  the  teacher  and  the  quarrelling  of  the 
children  detestable  and  hideous.  He  had  through 
life  an  utter  contempt  and  horror  for  every  arbitrary 
infliction  of  bodily  pain;  and  once,  when  conversing 
with  a  person  who  advocated  the  use  of  the  lash  in 
the  army,  navy,  and  prisons,  broke  forth  with, — 
"What!  strike  a  man!"  with  such  a  thrilling  tone,  that 
it  completely  overwhelmed  his  hearer,  and  awakened  in 
him  an  entirely  new  sense  of  the  dignity  of  a  human 
being. 

In  connexion  with  this  degradation  of  boys  by  whip- 
ping he  sometimes  remarked,  that  his  first  feeling  of 
the  sacredness  of  woman  was  called  out  by  observing 
that  the  delicate  hands  of  the  girls  at  school  were  never 
marked  by  the  ferula.  But,  indeed,  this  early  senti- 
ment of  reverence  for  women  was  probably  owing  to  his 
lively  sensibility  to  female  loveliness.  For  once,  while 
gazing  on  a  child  as  she  danced  playfully  round  him, 
he  said,  with  a  tone  of  deep  tenderness, — "She  brings 
so  to  mind  the  days  when  her  mother,  then  a  gay  little 
girl,  used  with  her  companions  to  creep  from  the  school- 
room unnoticed  by  the  master,  and  I,  looking  out  of 
the  window,  would  watch  her  as  she  skipped  down  the 


24  BOYHOOD. 

street,  and  with  boastful  gesture  mocked  the  boys  who 
could  not  follow.  She  seemed,  with  her  hair  floating 
on  her  shoulders,  as  she  lightly  moved,  so  very  beau- 
tiful. I  have  a  clearer  notion  of  the  bliss  of  a  seraph 
in  heaven  now,  than  I  had  then  of  the  joyous  spirit 
which  buoyed  up  that  form." 

As  a  pupil,  it  is  said  that  William  was  patient  and 
diligent,  but  not  remarkable  for  quickness  of  perception. 
He  rather  examined  carefully  the  subject  offered  to  his 
attention,  listening  to  his  teacher,  till  satisfied  that  he 
thoroughly  understood  his  meaning,  than  comprehended 
it  at  once  by  rapid  insight.  Indeed,  like  many  men, 
afterward  distinguished  for  intellectual  power,  he  was 
thought  dull;  and  the  story  runs,  that  he  found  the 
difficulties  in  acquiring  Latin  to  be  insurmountable, 
until  an  assistant  in  his  father's  office,  taking  pity  on 
the  plodding  boy,  said  one  evening, — "Come,  Bill! 
they  say  you  are  a  fool,  but  I  know  better.  Bring  me 
your  grammar,  and  I'll  soon  teach  you  Latin."  But, 
having  thus  taken  the  first  step  by  aid  of  his  judicious 
friend,  his  progress  was  so  rapid  that  he  early  became 
distinguished  for  classical  attainments.  In  a  letter  to 
a  young  friend,  he  alludes  to  the  delight  with  which  he 
first  read  Virgil,  and  he  often  referred  to  his  boyish 
pleasure  in  this  class  of  studies.  For  mathematics,  also, 
he  showed  both  aptitude  and  fondness,  and  he  retained 
through  life  quite  uncommon  quickness  and  accuracy 
in  the  combination  of  numbers,  though  his  subsequent 
pursuits  were  little  fitted  to  develop  this  latent  taste. 
Considerateness,  reflection,  thoroughness,  rather  than 
brilliancy,  originality,  or  force,  seem  to  have  been  his 
mental  manifestations  at  school.  But  so  much  depends 
upon  the  skill  of  the  teacher,  upon  penetration  to  detect, 


HOME    EDUCATION.  25 

and  readiness  of  sympathy  to  foster,  the  peculiar  genius 
of  a  child,  that  but  small  reliance  can  be  placed  upon 
such  indications,  as  he  then  gave  of  his  intellectual 
biases.  All  that  is  actually  known  is,  that  he  gained 
the  respect  of  his  instructors,  held  a  high  rank  among 
his  fellows,  and  awakened  the  warm  hopes  of  his  friends; 
for,  in  a  letter  written  towards  the  close  of  his  school 
days,  his  father,  using  the  stately  style  of  expressing 
affection  then  common,  says  to  him, — "We  expect 
much  from  our  son  William,  and  flatter  ourselves  that 
we  shall  not  be  disappointed." 

Of  the  more  important  education  which  William 
received  from  the  influences  of  home  and  of  society,  he 
has  himself  given  a  graphic,  though  slight  sketch,  in 
the  letter  descriptive  of  his  father.  But  it  may  be  well 
to  dwell  on  these  influences  for  a  moment,  as  they  did 
much  to  give  direction  to  his  moral  energies.  His 
father's  dignified  reserve  towards  his  children  has  been 
noticed  with  regret  by  the  son ;  but  still  the  pervading 
sweetness  of  his  manner  must  have  captivated  them, 
and  won  their  confidence,  for,  by  universal  report,  his 
presence  was  like  a  sunbeam — so  did  cheerfulness, 
serenity,  good  humour,  pleasantry,  kind  regard  for 
others'  rights  and  feelings,  and  assiduity  to  please,  sur- 
round him  with  an  atmosphere  of  love.  The  mother 
was  not  of  a  placid  temperament;  but  the  father,  in 
the  gentlest  tone,  would  soothe  her  when  disturbed  by 
household  perplexities,  or  by  the  children's  tumult, 
saying,  "  Do  not  trouble  yourself,  Lucy,  I  will  make 
all  smooth."  They  who  were  ever  under  the  charm  of 
Dr.  Channing's  blandness,  may  readily  conceive  how 
much  in  early  life  he  had  been  affected  by  his  father's 
beautiful  domestic  character.  And  from  the  mother's 

VOL.  i.  f  c 


26  BOYHOOD. 

scrupulous  thoroughness  lie  no  less  derived  practical 
habits  of  the  highest  use.  She  was  the  boys'  overseer 
in  the  care  of  the  garden,  when,  as  they  grew  strong 
enough,  they  were  entrusted  with  tools;  and  she  was  a 
judge  difficult  to  please.  If  the  seeds  were  well  planted, 
the  beds  kept  clean,  the  paths  swept,  they  had  kind 
words  and  reward ;  but  if  they  slighted  their  task  they 
must  go  hungry.  In  the  plain  but  expressive  phrase  of 
our  farmers,  she  would  have  no  "shirking."  She  kept 
a  close  watch,  that  her  children  should  not  fall  into 
danger  or  mischief,  and  was  in  all  respects  exact. 
Among  other  restrictions  one  may  be  mentioned,  as 
illustrating  at  once  her  caution  and  William's  con- 
scientiousness. She  forbade  the  boys  from  bathing  in 
the  sea  without  the  protection  of  some  grown  person. 
Of  course  the  temptation  constantly  presented  by  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  water,  the  facilities  offered  by 
the  beach  and  boats  at  the  wharf,  and  the  example  of 
those  of  their  own  age,  proved  often  too  strong;  and 
then,  if  after  efforts  to  dry  their  hair  by  rubbing  and 
basking  in  the  sun,  the  ends  were  found  wet,  off  went 
the  jacket  and  a  brisk  application  of  the  rod  followed. 
But  while  his  brothers  disregarded  this  unreasonable 
restraint,  as  to  them  it  seemed,  and  became  good 
swimmers,  William,  though  as  eager  for  sport,  and  as 
fearless  as  they,  used  to  walk  quietly  home  alone. 
He  through  life  regretted  that  filial  respect  had  de- 
manded the  sacrifice  of  so  manly  and  useful  an  accom- 
plishment. The  mother  was  a  person  overflowing 
with  generosity,  though  she  was  at  the  same  time 
frugal  from  her  sense  of  parental  responsibility,  and  the 
children,  left  to  the  charge  of  a  strict  domestic,  thought 
their  fare  sometimes  scanty;  but  William,  it  is  re- 


SOCIAL   INFLUENCES.  27 

membered,  was  grateful  and  contented.  In  relation  to 
this  point,  he  once  said, — "When  I  was  young,  the 
luxury  of  eating  was  carried  to  the  greatest  excess  in 
Newport.  My  first  notion,  indeed,  of  glory,  was  at- 
tached to  an  old  black  cook,  whom  I  saw  to  be  the 
most  important  personage  in  town.  He  belonged  to 
the  household  of  my  uncle,  and  was  in  great  demand 
wherever  there  was  to  be  a  dinner."  The  extreme 
simplicity  of  his  own  after  habits  may  have  been,  in  a 
measure,  owing  to  the  disgust  which  he  thus  early  felt 
for  self-indulgence,  and  to  the  plainness  of  living  to 
which  he  was  accustomed  at  home.  While  thus  over- 
cautious, however,  the  good  mother  was  still  genuinely 
affectionate,  and  faithfully  supplied,  according  to  her 
ability,  the  absence  of  paternal  guidance;  for  the 
father  was  for  the  most  part  too  busy  in  his  multi- 
farious duties  to  be  able  to  pay  much  heed  to  his 
family. 

But  though  so  little  under  the  direct  influence  of 
his  father's  character,  William's  principles  were  yet 
permanently  fashioned  by  his  example.  From  him  and 
from  his  grandfather,  and  their  conversations  on  public 
questions,  at  the  critical  period  when  our  nation  was 
settling  into  order  after  the  upheaval  of  the  revolution, 
and  when  Europe  was  shaken  from  end  to  end  by  the 
first  waves  of  the  grand  social  earthquake,  he  doubtless 
derived  that  spirit  of  patriotism  and  interest  in  political 
movements  by  which  he  was  afterwards  characterized. 
His  father,  as  a  leading  lawyer,  and  an  earnest  sup- 
porter of  the  federal  party,  necessarily  received  at  his 
house  various  eminent  men  who  visited  Newport. 
Washington  dined  there  when  on  his  northern  tour,  and 
it  can  be  readily  understood  how  much  a  boy's  enthu- 


28  BOYHOOD. 

siasin,  already  fervent  from  hearing  him  always  spoken 
of  in  terms  of  honour,  was  heightened  by  thus  seeing 
the  Father  of  the  Nation  face  to  face.  Jay,  too,  and 
other  men  remarkable  for  political,  professional,  and 
literary  talent  were  there,  waking  by  their  presence 
generous  ambition.  And  by  Dr.  Stiles,  once  pastor 
in  Newport,  and  afterwards  President  of  Yale  College, 
William  was  so  moved,  that  late  in  life  he  used  in  re- 
lation to  him  this  strong  language : — "  To  the  influence 
of  this  distinguished  man  in  the  circle  in  which  I  was 
brought  up,  I  may  owe  in  part  the  indignation  which  I 
feel  towards  every  invasion  of  human  rights.  In  my 
earliest  years  I  regarded  no  human  being  with  equal 
reverence.  I  have  his  form  before  me  at  this  moment 
almost  as  distinctly  as  if  I  had  seen  him  yesterday, 
so  strong  is  the  impression  made  on  a  child  through 
the  moral  affections."* 

While  thus  in  an  atmosphere  of  freedom,  tempered 
by  respect  for  order,  the  traits  were  developed  which 
made  him  in  manhood  a  patriot  and  philanthropist; 
yet  deeper  influences  were  unfolding  William's  spiritual 
affections.  He  seems  from  the  first  to  have  shown  a 
bent  towards  the  pursuit  that  occupied  his  mature 
years,  and  early  earned  the  title  of  "Little  Minister." 
When  yet  very  small,  he  was  wont  to  arrange  a  room 
with  seats  and  desk,  and  to  summon  the  family,  with 
blows  upon  the  warming-pan  by  way  of  a  bell,  to  a 
religious  meeting,  *where  he  preached  with  much  seri- 
ousness and  energy.  At  other  times,  he  would  assemble 
his  playmates  for  a  similar  purpose  upon  the  steps  of 
the  door.  This  development  of  religious  sensibility 

*  Discourse  at  the  Dedication  of  the  Unitarian  Congregational  Church, 
Newport,  1836.     "Works,  (American  edition,)  Vol.  IV.,  p.  341. 


RELIGIOUS    INFLUENCES.  29 

may  have  been  owing  in  a  measure  to  the  influence  of 
an  aunt  of  his  father's,  who  was  an  invalid,  and  a 
woman  of  much  piety  and  sweetness,  to  whose  room 
the  nephews  and  nieces  went  on  a  Sunday  afternoon  to 
read  in  the  Bible  or  some  good  book,  repeat  hymns, 
and  join  in  a  simple  prayer.  At  home,  too,  his  mother 
was  accustomed  to  call  the  children  together  in  the  best 
parlour,  which  was  open  only  once  a  week,  or  on  great 
occasions,  and  to  read  with  them  from  the  Scriptures. 
With  the  then  prevalent  views  of  deference  due  to 
parents,  she  exacted  at  these  times  a  decorum  which 
the  younger  ones  found  it  difficult  to  keep;  for  the 
large  room,  in  winter  days,  was  cold,  and  they  shivered 
in  their  seats;  and  as  the  wind  found  its  way  through 
the  crannies  and  swelled  the  carpet,  the  house-dog 
would,  to  their  great  amusement,  chase  the  waves  across 
the  floor.  William,  however,  was  always  sedate.  He 
was  influenced,  too,  not  a  little  by  a  respected  confi- 
dential servant,  Rachel  De  Gilder,  a  woman  of  mascu- 
line energy,  kind,  though  firm,  and  of  strong  religious 
principle,  who  exerted  a  sway  over  the  children,  second 
only  to  their  mother's,  and  to  whom  William  felt  a  grati- 
tude so  warm  that  he  befriended  her  through  a  long  life. 
Rachel  was  a  Baptist,  converted  and  instructed  by  Mr. 
Eddy,  of  Newport,  who  was  afterward  known  to  have 
been  a  Unitarian.  Her  views  were  uncommonly  cheer- 
ful ;  and  it  would  be  interesting  to  learn  how  far  sug- 
gestive words,  dropped  by  her  in  conversation,  became 
germs  in  the  boy's  receptive  heart,  which  ripened  into 
the  theology  of  his  manhood. 

While  a  spiritual  life  was  thus  taking  root,  and  putting 
forth  its  first  branches,  his  reason  was  also  directed 
to  doctrinal  speculations.  His  grandfather  Ellery  was 


30  BOYHOOD. 

a  diligent  student  of  ecclesiastical  history  and  of  dog- 
matic divinity,  and  liked  much  to  converse  with  perfect 
freedom  upon  disputed  points  of  faith.  This  must  of 
course  have  had  its  effect  upon  an  intelligent  boy  like 
William,  and  he  once  alluded  to  it,  saying, — "  When 
hut  a  mere  child,  I  was  quite  a  theologian,  and  could 
chop  logic  very  well  with  my  elders,  according  to  the 
fashion  of  that  controversial  time."  In  relation  to  this 
period,  he  has  also  said, — "  I  can  distinctly  recollect 
unhappy  influences  exerted  on  my  youthful  mind  hy 
the  general  tone  of  religion  in  this  town," — referring  at 
once  to  the  dry  technical  teaching  which  he  heard  from 
the  pulpit,  or  the  dull  drilling  which  the  children 
weekly  underwent  from  the  Assembly's  Catechism  on 
the  one  side,  and  on  the  other  to  the  profanity  and  jeers 
of  infidelity  which  reached  him  in  the  street. 

Many  elevating  influences,  however,  were  around 
him,  to  which  he  has  thus  borne  grateful  testimony : — 

"  I  can  well  remember  how  the  name  of  Dr.  Stiles  was 
cherished  among  his  parishioners,  after  years  of  separation. 
His  visit  to  this  place  was  to  many  a  festival.  When  little 
more  than  a  child,  I  was  present  at  some  of  his  private 
meetings  with  the  more  religious  part  of  his  former  congre- 
gation, and  I  recollect  how  I  was  moved  by  the  tears  and 
expressive  looks  with  which  his  affectionate  exhortations 
were  received.  In  his  faith,  he  was  what  was  called  a  mo- 
derate Calvinist ;  but  his  heart  was  of  no  sect.  He  carried 
into  his  religion  the  spirit  of  liberty,  which  then  stirred 
the  whole  country.  Intolerence,  church  tyranny,  in  all  its 
forms,  he  abhorred.  He  respected  the  right  of  private 
judgment,  where  others  would  have  thought  themselves 
authorized  to  restrain  it.  A  young  man,  to  whom  he  had 
been  as  a  father,  one  day  communicated  to  him  doubts 


RELIGIOUS    INFLUENCES.  31 

concerning  the  Trinity.  He  expressed  his  sorrow,  but 
mildly  and  with  undiminished  affection  told  him  to  go  to 
the  Scriptures,  and  to  seek  his  faith  there  and  only  there. 
His  friendships  were  confined  to  no  parties.  He  desired 
to  heal  the  wounds  of  the  divided  church  of  Christ,  not  by 
a  common  creed,  but  by  the  spirit  of  love.  He  wished  to 
break  every  yoke,  civil  and  ecclesiastical." 

Of  Dr.  Hopkins,  also,  whom  he  used  to  hear  preach, 
as  well  as  often  to  meet  at  his  father's  table,  and  of 
whom  ample  mention  will  be  made  hereafter,  he  has 
left  recollections  full  of  affectionate  respect.  It  was 
from  him  that  he  first  gained  his  convictions  of  the 
iniquity  of  slavery;  for  this  was  a  subject  on  which  Dr. 
Hopkins,  without  heeding  the  strong  prejudices  and 
passions  enlisted  on  the  side  of  wrong,  bore  faithful 
testimony  from  the  press  and  the  pulpit,  while  at  the 
same  time  he  laboured  for  the  education  of  the  coloured 
people  with  energy  and  success. 

"  My  recollections  of  Dr.  Hopkins,"  he  writes,  "  go  back 
to  my  earliest  years.  As  the  second  congregational  church 
was  closed  in  my  childhood,  in  consequence  of  Dr.  Stiles's 
removal  to  New  Haven,  my  father  was  accustomed  to  attend 
on  the  ministry  of  Dr.  Hopkins.  Perhaps  he  was  the  first 
minister  I  heard,  but  I  heard  him  with  no  profit.  His 
manner,  which  was  singularly  unattractive,  could  not  win  a 
child's  attention ;  and  the  circumstances  attending  the 
service  were  repulsive.  The  church  had  been  much  injured 
by  the  British  during  their  occupation  of  the  town,  and  the 
congregation  were  too  poor  to  repair  it.  It  had  a  desolate 
look,  and  in  whiter  the  rattling  of  the  windows  made  an 
impression  which  time  has  not  worn  out.  It  was  literally 
'  as  cold  as  a  barn,'  and  some  of  the  most  painful  sensations 
of  my  childhood  were  experienced  in  that  comfortless 


32  BOYHOOD. 

building.  As  I  grew  up,  I  was  accustomed  to  attend 
worship  in  our  own  church,  where  Dr.  Patten  was  settled, 
so  that  for  years  I  knew  little  of  Dr.  Hopkins.  My  first 
impressions  were  not  very  favourable.  I  think  it  probable 
that  his  strong  reprobation  of  the  slave-trade  excited  ill-will 
in  the  place,  and  I  can  distinctly  recollect  that  the  pre- 
valence of  terror  in  his  preaching  was  a  very  common 
subject  of  remark,  and  gave  rise  to  ludicrous  stories  among 
the  boys."* 

It  was  at  this  period,  too,  that  he  received  lessons, 
never  to  be  forgotten,  on  the  virtue  of  temperance,  from 
a  Baptist  minister,  called  Father  Thurston.  This 
worthy  man  gave  striking  evidence  of  his  zeal  for  re- 
forming the  vice  of  drunkenness  at  a  time  when  all 
classes  of  society  there,  as  elsewhere,  were  debased  by 
it,  and  when  the  citizens  of  Newport  were  largely 
engaged  in  the  manufacture  and  traffic  in  ardent  spirits. 
He  was  very  poor,  and  eked  out  a  scanty  support,  in 
addition  to  a  small  ministerial  salary,  by  working 
during  the  week  as  a  cooper.  But  though  hogsheads 
and  barrels  were  the  articles  most  in  demand  for  the 
West  India  trade,  the  old  gentleman  would  make 
nothing  but  pails. 

The  most  significant  anecdote  to  illustrate  the  reli- 
gious impressions  made  upon  his  mind  in  childhood  is 
one  thus  related  by  himself.  His  father,  with  the  view 
of  giving  him  a  ride,  took  William  in  bis  chaise  one 
day,  as  be  was  going  to  hear  a  famous  preacher  in  the 
neighbourhood.  Impressed  with  the  notion  that  he 
might  learn  great  tidings  from  the  unseen  world,  he 
listened  attentively  to  the  sermon.  With  very  glowing 

*  Works,  (American  edition,)  Vol.  IV.,  p.  341. 


FATHER   THURSTON.  33 

rhetoric,  the  lost  state  of  man  was  described,  his  aban- 
donment to  evil,  helplessness,  dependence  upon  so- 
vereign grace,  and  the  need  of  earnest  prayer  as  the 
condition  of  receiving  this  divine  aid.  In  the  view  of 
the  speaker,  a  curse  seemed  to  rest  upon  the  earth,  and 
darkness  and  horror  to  veil  the  face  of  nature.  William, 
for  his  part,  supposed  that  henceforth  those  who  be- 
lieved would  abandon  all  other  things  to  seek  this 
salvation,  and  that  amusement  and  earthly  business 
would  no  longer  occupy  a  moment.  The  service  ^over, 
they  went  out  of  the  church,  and  his  father,  in  answer 
to  the  remark  of  some  person,  said,  with  a  decisive 
tone, — " Sound  doctrine,  Sir."  " It  is  all  true"  then, 
was  his  inward  reflection.  A  heavy  weight  fell  on  his 
heart.  He  wanted  to  speak  to  his  father;  he  expected 
his  father  would  speak  to  him  in  relation  to  this  tre- 
mendous crisis  of  things.  They  got  into  the  chaise 
and  rode  along,  but,  absorbed  in  awful  thoughts,  he 
could  not  raise  his  voice.  Presently  his  father  began 
to  whistle!  At  length  they  reached  home;  but  instead 
of  calling  the  family  together,  and  telling  them  of  the 
appalling  intelligence  which  the  preacher  had  given, 
his  father  took  off  his  boots,  put  his  feet  upon  the 
mantelpiece,  and  quietly  read  a  newspaper.  All  things 
went  on  as  usual.  At  first,  he  was  surprised ;  but,  not 
being  given  to  talking,  he  asked  no  explanations.  Soon, 
however,  the  question  rose, — "  Could  what  he  had  heard 
be  true?  No !  his  father  did  not  believe  it;  people  did 
not  believe  it !  It  was  not  true !"  He  felt  that  he  had 
been  trifled  with ;  that  the  preacher  had  deceived  him ; 
and  from  that  time  he  became  inclined  to  distrust  every 
thing  oratorical,  and  to  measure  exactly  the  meaning 

c  3 


84  BOYHOOD. 

of  words;  he  had  received  a  profound  lesson  on  the 
worth  of  sincerity. 

External  aids  were  useful,  however,  in  unfolding 
William's  religious  nature,  only  because  this  was  so 
rich  *in  high,  generous,  conscientious  feeling.  He  was 
remarkable,  from  the  first,  for  purity  and  self-command, 
and  for  an  air  of  dignity,  which  abashed  the  frivolous- 
ness  of  rude  companions,  and  guarded  him  from  the 
familiarities  of  less  delicate  spirits.  And  it  was  well 
that  conscience  was  thus  early  quickened,  and  that  this 
mantle  of  modesty  was  wrapped  about  him ;  for,  to  use 
his  own  words,  there  was  then  "  a  corruption  of  morals 
among  those  of  my  own  age,  which  made  boyhood  a 
critical  and  perilous  season." 

In  disposition,  William  was  for  the  most  part  grave 
and  reflective.  He  was  fond  of  lonely  rambles  on  the 
beach;  liked  to  go  apart  into  some  beautiful  scene, 
with  no  other  playmate  than  his  kite,  which  he  delighted 
in  flying;  indulged  in  reverie  and  contemplation,  and, 
according  to  his  own  statement,  owed  the  tone  of  his 
character  more  to  the  influences  of  solitary  thought  than 
of  companionship.  Indeed,  he  often  said  that  he 
understood  the  happiness  of  childhood  rather  from 
observation  than  experience,  that  his  early  life  was  sad, 
that  conscious  want  of  virtue  and  knowledge  then 
depressed  him,  that  friendship  seemed  tame  and  cold, 
that  life  looked  desolate,  and  that  every  year  had  been 
brighter  to  him  than  the  last.  But  this  seriousness 
was  only  the  shadow  of  melancholy  that  early  comes 
over  children  of  ideal  temper,  when  first  the  shock  of 
contrast  is  felt  between  hope  and  existing  facts,  and 
from  dreams  of  Eden  vouth  wakes  in  the  desert; 


LOVE    OF   SOLITUDE.  35 

when  reverence  is  forced  to  see  that  the  best  earthly 
friends  can  fail,  and  conscience  reveals  a  host  of  in- 
ward foes ;  when  chivalrous  honour,  cherished  in  fancy, 
is  confronted  with  actual  meanness;  when  life  presents 
itself  as  a  long  series  of  struggles  or  compromises,  and 
enthusiasm  holds  parley  with  prudence,  and  the  sad- 
dened spirit  seeks,  in  religious  aspirations,  poetic 
visions,  and  communion  with  nature's  order  and  fresh- 
ness, solace  and  strength.  Out  of  such  discords,  the 
earnest  learn,  as  he  did,  to  draw  harmonies  which  make 
after-life  a  hymn  of  praise  and  a  triumphal  march.  He 
was  testing  the  wealth  of  the  inward  world  intrusted  to 
his  regency,  learning  the  obligations  of  duty,  and 
arming  himself  with  love  for  the  conquest  of  evil. 
These  retiring  habits  did  not  make  him  morose,  but 
taught  him  self-respect,  the  courage  to  deny  temptation, 
distaste  for  the  trivial  and  vulgar,  and  loftiness  of  aim. 
Among  his  playmates  he  seems  to  have  been  always 
noted  for  a  certain  greatness  of  character.  They  called 
him  "Peacemaker"  and  "Little  King  Pepin."  He  is 
described  as  having  been  small  and  delicate,  yet  mus- 
cular and  active,  with  a  very  erect  person,  quick  move- 
ment, a  countenance  that,  while  sedate,  was  cheerful, 
and  a  singularly  sweet  smile,  which  he  never  lost 
through  life.  When  with  companions,  he  was  exuberant 
in  spirits,  overflowing  with  energy,  ready  to  join  heartily 
in  all  amusements,  but  never  boisterous.  He  was 
much  beloved  by  the  children  of  the  school  and  neigh- 
bourhood, though  even  then  acting  as  an  exhorter;  for 
he  used  to  rebuke  among  them  all  profaneness  or 
obscenity.  But  this  was  done  with  a  gentle  tone,  that 
manifested  rather  sorrow  than  anger,  and  was  well 
received.  His  character  was  thus  early  marked  by 


36  BOYHOOD. 

mingled  strength  and  sweetness,  though  by  some  ac- 
counts it  would  appear  that  he  was  by  no  means  free 
from  irritability.  He  loved  power,  too;  and  such  was 
his  sway,  among  even  the  quarrelsome,  that  when  his 
voice  was  heard,  persuading  them  to  order,  he  was 
readily  obeyed.  Sufficient  fire,  however,  was  latent 
under  his  mildness  to  give  him  energy.  He  once 
flogged  a  boy  larger  than  himself,  who  had  imposed, 
as  he  thought,  upon  one  weaker.  And  on  another 
occasion,  when  the  pupils  of  Mr.  Kogers's  school  had 
collected  in  expectation  of  an  attack  from  the  boys  of 
a  different  part  of  the  town,  William  urged  them  to  go 
and  meet  the  others  and  settle  the  matter  at  once;  he 
disapproved  of  delay  and  mere  talking.  He  was  a 
remarkable  wrestler  also,  excelled  in  pitching  the  quoit, 
liked  adventurous  sports,  was  fond  of  climbing  to  the 
mast-head  of  vessels  at  the  wharf,  and  once  when  sliding 
rapidly  down  a  stay,  narrowly  escaped  being  dashed  on 
deck,  the  swift  descent  tearing  the  skin  from  his  hands. 
Through  life,  indeed,  he  had  unflinching  physical  as 
well  as  moral  courage,  and  seemed  unconscious  of  fear. 
One  anecdote  may  serve  to  show  how  early  this  intre- 
pidity was  manifested.  In  those  days  the  good  people 
of  Newport  were  very  superstitious, — as  was  the  case, 
in  fact,  generally  throughout  the  country, — and  a  vessel 
lying  in  the  stream  had  the  reputation  of  being  haunted. 
All  manner  of  rumours  were  spread  as  to  strange  noises 
.and  doings  on  board.  To  throw  ridicule  on  the  pre- 
vailing panic,  William  proposed  to  pass  the  night  in 
her.  But  though  he  anxiously  desired  it,  his  friends 
forbade  his  going, — of  course,  not  from  belief  in  ghosts, 
but  from  fear  of  injury  that  might  be  done  to  him 
through  wantonness  or  ill  design.  He  was  officer,  too, 


COURAGE.  37 

it  seems,  in  a  company  of  boys  that  marched  to  salute 
Count  Rochambeau  when  he  was  on  a  visit  at  Newport, 
upon  which  occasion  the  young  commander  made  an 
address,  and  marshalled  his  troop,  with  a  spirit  that  won 
much  admiration. 

If  these  trifling  mementos  indicate  a  generous  and 
high-spirited  character,  there  are  others  which  illustrate 
his  thoughtfulness  and  disinterestedness.  Among  them, 
one  may  be  worth  noting,  because  it  proves  that  he  had 
instinctively  adopted  in  early  years  the  rule  which 
strictly  governed  his  manhood,  of  "  letting  not  his  left 
hand  know  what  his  right  hand  did."  A  man  sick  and 
in  distress  begged  one  day  at  the  door.  William  ob- 
served him,  but  was  silent  and  gave  nothing  at  the 
time.  When  the  beggar  had  gone,  however,  he  was 
seen  to  follow  him  out,  and  to  put  into  his  hand  some 
pieces  of  money,  which  must  have  been  all  that  he  had. 
It  is  remembered,  too,  that  he  used  to  visit  a  friendless 
and  desolate  old  man  in  the  neighbourhood,  carrying 
with  him  such  comforts  as  he  could  command;  and 
interest  generally  in  the  poor,  deference  for  the  aged, 
and  considerate  regard  for  the  feelings  and  rights  of 
domestics  in  the  family,  gained  for  him  the  warm  affec- 
tion due  to  the  liberal  and  loving. 

The  same  gentle  and  kind  disposition  manifested 
itself  in  his  treatment  of  animals,  as,  in  a  letter  written 
soon  after  leaving  college,  he  thus  himself  declares  : — 

"  Thanks  to  my  stars,  I  can  say  I  have  never  killed  a 
bird.  I  would  not  crush  the  meanest  insect  which  crawls 
upon  the  ground.  They  have  the  same  right  to  life  that  I 
have,  they  received  it  from  the  same  Father,  and  I  will 
not  mar  the  works  of  God  by  wanton  cruelty. 

"  I  can  remember  an  incident  in  my  childhood,  which 


38  BOYHOOD. 

has  given  a  turn  to  my  whole  life  and  character.  I  found 
a  nest  of  birds  in  my  father's  field,  which  held  four  young 
ones.  They  had  no  down  when  I  first  discovered  them. 
They  opened  their  little  mouths  as  if  they  were  hungry, 
and  I  gave  them  some  crumbs  which  were  in  my  pocket. 
Every  day  I  returned  to  feed  them.  As  soon  as  school 
was  done,  I  would  run  home  for  some  bread,  and  sit  by 
the  nest  to  see  them  eat,  for  an  hour  at  a  time.  They 
were  now  feathered,  and  almost  ready  to  fly.  When  I 
came  one  morning,  I  found  them  all  cut  up  into  quarters. 
The  grass  round  the  nest  was  red  with  blood.  Their  little 
limbs  were  raw  and  bloody.  The  mother  was  on  a  tree, 
and  the  father  on  the  wall,  mourning  for  their  young.  I 
cried  myself,  for  I  was  a  child.  I  thought,  too,  that  the 
parents  looked  on  me  as  the  author  of  their  miseries,  and 
this  made  me  still  more  unhappy.  I  wanted  to  undeceive 
them.  I  wanted  to  sympathize  with  and  comfort  them. 
When  I  left  the  field,  they  followed  me  with  their  eyes 
and  with  mournful  reproaches.  I  was  too  young  and  too 
sincere  in  my  grief  to  make  any  apostrophes.  But  I  can 
never  forget  my  feelings.  The  impression  will  never  be 
worn  away,  nor  can  I  ever  cease  to  abhor  every  species  of 
inhumanity  towards  inferior  animals." 

In  connection  with  this  letter,  and  as  illustrating  his 
sympathy  with  the  lower  creation,  it  is  remembered 
that  he  reared,  while  quite  young,  a  brood  of  chickens, 
devoting  himself  to  them  with  the  tenderest  care ;  and 
that  once,  seeing  in  a  trap  some  rats  which  were  to  be 
drowned,  he  was  so  much  affected  by  their  evident  dis- 
tress, that  he  opened  the  door  and  let  them  go. 

This  sketch  of  William's  boyhood  cannot  be  more 
fitly  closed  than  with  the  following  letter  from  his 
friend  in  youth,  and  friend  till  death,  our  poet-painter, 
Washington  Allston. 


KINDNESS   TO   ANIMALS.  39 

"  I  know  not  that  I  could  better  describe  him  than  as 
an  open,  brave,  and  generous  boy.  The  characters  of  boys 
are,  I  believe,  almost  always  truly  estimated  by  their  com- 
panions,—at  least  morally,  though  perhaps  seldom  intel- 
lectually ;  and  these  are  generally  assigned  to  the  several 
classes  of  the  open  or  the  cunning,  the  generous  or  the 
mean,  the  brave  or  the  cowardly.  And  I  well  remember, 
though  he  was  several  months  my  junior  (a  matter  of  some 
importance  among  children),  that  I  always  looked  up  to 
him  even  in  boyhood  with  respect ;  nor  can  I  recall  a  single 
circumstance  that  ever  weakened  that  feeling.  In  our 
games,  he  was  never  known  to  take  any  undue  advantage, 
but  would  give  way  at  once,  where  there  was  the  least 
doubt  on  the  point  at  issue.  And  though  he  was  but 
scantily  provided  with  pocket-money,  his  little  chance  sup- 
plies seemed,  in  the  schoolboy  phrase,  always  to  '  burn 
in  his  pocket ;'  he  could  neither  keep  it  there,  nor  ever  ex- 
pend it  wholly  on  himself.  On  one  occasion,  when  quite 
a  little  boy,  he  had  a  present  from  a  relative  of  a  dollar. 
Such  an  excess  of  wealth  was  never  before  in  his  posses- 
sion ;  and  I  can  now  bring  before  me  the  very  expression 
of  glee  with  which  he  came  among  us,  to  disencumber 
himself  of  the  load.  This  is  the  only  incident  that  I  can 
now  recall,  and  this  must  have  been  full  fifty  years  ago. 
He  had  the  same  large  heart  when  a  boy  that  animated 
him  to  the  last.  His  intellectual  endowments  are  known 
to  the  world ;  but  only  his  early  companions,  who  have 
survived  him,  can  bear  witness  to  the  rare  uniformity  of 
his  moral  worth ;  man  and  boy,  he  was,  in  their  true 
sense,  high-minded  and  noble- hearted." 

At  the  age  of  twelve,  William  was  sent  to  New 
London,  to  prepare  for  college,  under  the  care  of  his 
uncle,  the  Kev.  Henry  Channing.  And  it  was  while 


40  BOYHOOD. 

he  was  residing  there,  that,  on  the  21st  of  September, 
1793,  his  father  died.  He  was  sent  for  home;  and  an 
aged  friend  of  the  family  still  describes  the  deep  and 
general  sympathy  called  out  by  the  appearance  of  the 
funeral,  when  Francis,  the  eldest  son,  then  in  college, 
and  William,  now  a  boy  of  thirteen  years,  with  their 
widowed  mother  and  the  younger  children,  followed  the 
coffin  of  their  beloved  and  universally  honoured  parent 
through  the  streets  of  Newport. 

This  death  made  a  momentous  change  in  the  condi- 
tion of  the  family,  and  threw  a  heavy  load  of  respon- 
sibility on  the  elder  sons ;  for  the  father,  though  most 
industrious  in  his  profession,  and  engaged  in  large 
business,  had  been  thus  far  able  to  lay  up  but  a  small 
property ;  and  the  mother,  though  wise  and  energetic, 
found  herself  oppressed  with  a  weight  of  care,  in  the 
charge  of  nine  children.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  the 
effect  of  such  a  loss  upon  a  boy  full  of  sensibility,  con- 
scientious and  resolute,  like  William,  must  have  been 
to  stimulate  him  to  the  exercise  of  every  power,  and  to 
the  most  rapid  preparation  for  a  time  when  he  might 
maintain  himself  and  assist  his  family.  From  easy 
independence  and  cheering  worldly  prospects,  he  and 
his  had  suddenly  become  poor ;  and  at  the  earliest  mo- 
ment it  was  necessary  that  he  should  free  his  mother 
from  the  burden  of  his  support.  More  than  that,  the 
head  of  the  house  was  taken ;  and  he  and  his  elder 
brother  must  now  become  their  mother's  advisers,  and 
guardians  of  those  younger.  The  character  of  inde- 
pendent energy,  and  thoughtful  oversight  for  every 
member  of  his  family,  thus  early  awakened,  grew 
stronger  through  life.  Doubtless,  however,  a  shade  of 


DEATH    OF   HIS    FATHER.  41 

premature  seriousness  was  given  to  his  temper.  The 
effect  of  this  bereavement  is  shown  hy  an  extract  from 
a  letter  of  his  grandfather  Ellery,  who  says : — 

"  Your  letters  have  afforded  me  great  delight,  for  they 
have  all  discovered  that  affectionate  regard  for  your  mother, 
your  brothers  and  sisters,  and  your  other  relatives,  which 
naturally  flows  from  a  feeling  and  ingenuous  mind,  and  in- 
dicates an  amiable  disposition." 

His  brother,  too,  writes  : — 

"  The  goodness  of  heart  which  you  possess  will,  I  doubt 
not,  ever  keep  you  desirous  of  liberating  our  mother  from 
her  cares.  Pass  with  her  all  the  moments  you  can  steal 
from  healthful  recreations  and  necessary  studies,  and  let 
the  kind  attentions  of  filial  affection  be  a  return  for  the  un- 
requitable tenderness  which  we,  her  beloved  children,  have 
received.  Your  brothers  and  sisters  esteem  you  for  your 
friendly  disposition.  Yes,  William,  you  are  happy  in  pos- 
sessing the  good- will  of  all." 

At  New  London  he  remained  a  year  and  more ;  and 
his  uncle,  writing  to  him  soon  after  he  entered  college, 
thus  describes  the  impression  which  his  character  and 
conduct  had  left : — 

"  It  gave  me  sensible  pleasure  to  find  you,  my  dear 
nephew,  retaining  the  same  animated  sensibility  which 
rendered  you  capable  of  receiving  and  communicating  hap- 
piness, and  secured  you  cordial  welcome  while  resident  in 
my  family.  Your  aunt  loves  you  tenderly,  and  often  ex- 
presses her  feelings  while  recounting  your  affectionate  re- 
spect and  attention.  Never  did  you  excite  one  painful 
emotion  in  our  breasts,  but  always  with  you  our  hearts 
were  made  glad.  We  never  can  forget  such  a  nephew,  or 
rather  such -a  son." 


42  BOYHOOD. 

That  he  was  earnest  and  successful  in  his  studies 
also  appears  by  the  following  extract  from  another  let- 
ter of  his  uncle,  who  was  his  instructor  : — 

"  Without  flattery,  I  can  only  say  that  your  progress  was 
more  the  result  of  your  assiduity  than  of  my  attention. 

"  I  am  pleased  with  your  observations  upon  the  expecta- 
tions of  your  friends  and  your  determination  to  endeavour 
to  realize  them.  We  know  that  your  situation  and  your 
genius  justify  us  in  forming  the  most  flattering  ideas  of  the 
future  eminence  of  our  nephew Permit  me  to  in- 
dulge the  hope  that  you  will  continue  to  possess  and  che- 
rish that  modesty  and  deference  to  superiors  which  has 
hitherto  been  a  distinguishing  trait  in  your  character." 

These  were  strong  words  of  praise  to  draw  from  one 
singularly  exacting  of  courteous  respect,  and  who, 
though  kind  in  heart,  was  severely  precise  in  manners. 
To  this  uncle  he  owed  much  in  every  way,  and  espe- 
cially for  the  tone  given  to  his  religious  feelings.  Mr. 
Henry  Channing  had  then  been  settled  for  many  years 
in  New  London ;  and  amid  the  gloomy  Calvinism  of 
Connecticut  had  preserved  a  spirit  free  and  bright, 
cheerful  in  hope  and  utterly  intolerant  of  bigotry.  New 
London  was  in  the  midst  of  one  of  the  "  Kevivals," 
which  then  were  quite  generally  oversweeping  New 
England.  And  Mr.  Channing,  though  of  the  more 
liberal  body,  sympathized  so  far  in  the  excitement,  that 
a  new  spiritual  interest  was  awakened  in  his  own  so- 
ciety, and  the  mind  of  William  received  such  deep  and 
lasting  impressions,  that  he  dated  back  to  that  period 
the  commencement  of  a  decidedly  religious  life.  His 
feelings  towards  New  London  were,  in  consequence  of 
this  era  in  his  inward  experience,  always  strong,  and 


REVIVAL.  43 

we  find  a  college  classmate  writing  to  him  thus  on  the 
occasion  of  his  revisiting  it : — "  I  hope  that  the  poor 
pilgrim  has  ere  this  trod  on  the  consecrated  ground  of 
Palestine.  New  London  you  view  with  a  partial  eye, 
as  the  place  where  you  acquired  those  hahits  of  virtue 
and  morality  which  have  always  influenced  your  con- 
duct. Pleasant  it  must  he  to  retrace  these  scenes  of 
former  times." 

From  New  London  William  went  to  Cambridge,  Mas- 
sachusetts, where  he  entered  Harvard  College  as  Fresh- 
man, in  1 794,  being  then  in  his  fifteenth  year.  And 
thus  closed  a  boyhood,  that  in  its  elements  and  re- 
sults, in  the  blending  of  generous  impulses  and  fine 
powers  with  high  principle  and  pure  habits,  gave  pro- 
mise of  greatnesSj  which  the  future  was  amply  to  re- 
deem. 


CHAPTEK  III. 

COLLEGE   LIFE. 

JET.  14-18.     1794-1798. 

IN  tracing  the  growth  of  William's  mind  and  character 
during  the  important  period  of  college  life,  it  is  of  in- 
terest to  understand  the  influences  which  surrounded 
him  ;  and  of  these  a  graphic  sketch  is  presented  in  the 
following  letter  from  his  classmate  and  friend,  Judge 
Story  *. 

"  You  express  a  desire  '  to  obtain  some  general  views  of 
the  circumstances  under  which  the  students  lived.'  I  be- 
lieve that  this  can  be  best  done  by  giving  you  a  brief  sketch 
of  the  state  of  college,  and  the  relation  which  the  students 
had  with  the  existing  college  government.  Things  are  so 
much  changed  since,  that  it  is  somewhat  difficult  to  realize 
all  the  influences  which  then  surrounded  them.  In  the 
first  place,  as  to  the  course  of  studies.  It  was  far  more 
confined  and  limited  than  at  present.  In  Greek,  we  stu- 
died Xenophon's  Anabasis,  and  a  few  Books  of  the  Iliad ; 
in  Latin,  Sallust  and  a  few  Books  of  Livy ;  in  Mathema- 
tics, Saunderson's  Algebra,  and  a  work  on  Arithmetic ;  in 
Natural  Philosophy,  Enfield's  Natural  Philosophy  and  Fer- 
guson's Astronomy ;  in  Rhetoric,  an  abridgment  of  Blair's 
Lectures,  and  the  article  on  Rhetoric  in  the  '  Preceptor ' ; 
in  Metaphysics,  Watts 's  Logic,  and  Locke  on  the  Human 

*   Letter  to  W.  F.  Channing. 


HABITS   OF   STUDENTS.  45 

Understanding ;  in  History,  Millet's  Elements ;  in  The- 
ology, Doddridge's  Lectures ;  in  grammatical  studies, 
Lowth's  Grammar.  I  believe  this  is  near  the  whole,  if 
not  the  whole,  course  of  our  systematical  studies.  The 
College  Library  was  at  that  time  far  less  comprehensive 
and  suited  to  the  wants  of  students  than  at  present.  It 
was  not  as  easily  accessible;  and,  indeed,  was  not  fre- 
quented by  them.  No  modern  language  was  taught,  ex- 
cept French,  and  that  only  one  day  in  the  week  by  a  non- 
resident instructor. 

"  The  means  of  knowledge  from  external  sources  was 
very  limited.  The  intercourse  between  us  and  foreign 
countries  was  infrequent ;  and  I  might  almost  say  that  we 
had  no  means  of  access  to  any  literature  and  science,  ex- 
cept the  English.  Even  in  respect  to  this,  we  had  little 
more  than  a  semi-annual  importation  of  the  most  common 
works ;  and  a  few  copies  supplied  and  satisfied  the  mar- 
ket. The  English  periodicals  were  then  few  in  number  ; 
and  I  do  not  remember  any  one  that  was  read  by  the  stu- 
dents, except  the  Monthly  Magazine  (the  old  Monthly), 
and  that  was  read  but  by  a  few.  I  have  spoken  of  our 
semi-annual  importations ;  and  it  is  literally  true,  that  two 
ships  only  plied  as  regular  packets  between  Boston  and 
London,  one  in  the  spring  and  one  in  the  autumn,  and 
their  arrival  was  an  era  in  our  college  life. 

"  In  respect  to  academical  intercourse,  the  students  had 
literally  none  that  was  not  purely  official,  except  with  each 
other.  The  different  classes  were  almost  strangers  to  each 
other ;  and  cold  reserve  generally  prevailed  between  them. 
The  system  of  '  fagging '  (as  it  was  called)  was  just  then 
dying  out,  and  I  believe  that  my  own  class  was  the  first 
that  was  not  compelled  to  perform  this  drudgery  at  the 
command  of  the  Senior  class,  in  the  most  humble  services. 
The  students  had  no  connection  whatsoever  with  the  inha- 


46  COLLEGE    LIFE. 

bitants  of  Cambridge  by  private  social  visits.  There  was 
none  between  the  families  of  the  president  and  professors 
of  the  college  and  the  students  The  regime  of  the  old 
school  in  manners  and  habits  then  prevailed.  The  presi- 
dent and  professors  were  never  approached  except  in  the 
most  formal  way,  and  upon  official  occasions  ;  and  in  the 
college  yard  (if  I  remember  rightly)  no  student  was  per- 
mitted to  be  with  his  hat  on,  if  one  of  the  professors  was 
there.  President  Willard  was  a  sound  scholar,  of  great 
dignity  of  manners,  but  cold  and  somewhat  forbidding  in 
his  demeanour.  Professor  Tappan  belonged  to  the  old 
school  of  theology,  and  had  much  of  the  grave  courtesy 
of  the  clergymen  of  that  school.  Professor  Webber  was 
modest,  mild,  and  quiet,  but  unconquerably  reserved  and 
staid.  Professor  Pearson  was  an  excellent  critic,  but  some- 
what severe  and  exact  in  his  requirements  ;  and  I  think  we 
all  greatly  profited  by  his  instructions,  even  when  we 
thought  them  not  delivered  in  the  most  gentle  accents. 
Our  tutors  were  young  men,  and  I  must  add  that  they 
were  most  diligent  and  conscientious  in  their  duties.  Some 
of  them  must  be  known  to  you,  for  they  are  still  living. 
Mr.,  afterwards  Professor,  Popkin,  Mr.,  afterwards  Profes- 
sor, Hedge,  and  Mr.,  now  Rev.  Dr.,  Pierce  of  Brookline. 
I  must  do  all  our  instructors,  the  professors  as  well  as  the 
tutors,  the  justice  to  say,  that  their  instructions  were  very 
valuable  to  us,  and  that  they  all  took  a  deep  and  earnest 
interest  in  our  advancement.  For  myself,  I  must  own  that 
at  this  distant  day  I  entertain  the  liveliest  gratitude  to  them 
for  the  aid  given  by  them  to  me  in  awakening  and  guiding 
my  love  of  letters.  But  private  social  access  to  them  did 
not  belong  to  the  habits  of  the  times,  and  a  free  and  easy 
intercourse  with  them,  which  would  now  not  be  considered 
unbecoming,  would  at  that  time  have  been  thought  some- 
what obtrusive  on  one  side,  and,  on  the  other,  would  have 


HABITS    OF    STUDENTS.  47 

exposed  the  student  to  the  imputation  of  being  what  in 
technical  language  was  called  a  '  fisherman,' — a  rank  and 
noxious  character  in  college  annals. 

"  These  suggestions  may  at  once  put  you  in  possession 
of  the  intra-mcenial  influences  of  college  life.  In  general, 
the  students  were  then  moral,  devoted  to  their  studies,  and 
ambitious  of  distinction.  There  would  be  then,  as  now, 
an  occasional  outbreak ;  but  I  am  not  aware  that  either 
immorality,  or  dissipation,  or  habitual  indolence  was  more 
in  fashion  than  in  succeeding  times.  There  will  always  be 
a  little  sprinkling  of  these  among  students  of  an  ardent  and 
reckless  character.  In  one  particular  a  salutary  change  in 
the  habits  of  life  has  taken  place.  There  is  universally 
far  more  temperance  now  than  then,  in  the  use  of  wine  and 
spirituous  liquors.  But  the  instances  of  excess  were  rare ; 
and  were  always  frowned  upon  by  classmates. 

"Passing  from  what  may  be  deemed  the  interior  influ- 
ences of  college  life,  I  would  say  a  few  words  as  to  those 
which  were  exterior.  And  here  the  principal  inquiry  would 
undoubtedly  be,  What  was  the  influence  of  the  metropolis 
in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  ?  I  have  no  difficulty  in 
saying,  that  it  was  very  slight  indeed,  compared  with  what 
Boston  now  exerts  with  so  much  potency  and  variety  of 
operation.  The  intercourse  between  the  students  and  Bos- 
ton was,  when  my  class  entered  college,  infrequent  and 
casual.  West-Boston  bridge  had  been  completed  but  a 
short  period  before ;  the  road  was  then  new  and  not  well 
settled ;  the  means  of  communication  from  Cambridge  were 
almost  altogether  by  walking;  and  the  inducements  to  visit 
in  private  circles  far  less  attractive  than  at  present.  Social 
intercourse  with  the  young,  and  especially  with  students, 
was  not  much  cultivated;  and  invitations  to  social  parties 
in  Boston  rarely  extended  to  college  circles.  The  litera- 
ture and  science,  the  taste,  and  talent,  and  learning,  now 
so  abundantly  found  in  that  interesting  city,  have  been  in 


48  COLLEGE    LIFE. 

a  great  measure  the  growth  of  later  times ;  and  the  result  is 
the  gradual  progress  of  wealth  and  refinement,  and  a  more 
comprehensive  education.  If  the  college  in  this  way  lost 
much  of  the  advantage  arising  from  the  zeal,  and  ambition, 
and  brilliant  eloquence  of  later  days,  it  is  but  just  to  add 
that  it  escaped  also  some  of  the  dangerous  allurements 
which  now  surround  the  paths  of  the  young  on  every  side. 

"  Now,  from  what  I  have  ventured  to  suggest,  I  believe, 
that,  during  the  collegiate  life  of  your  father,  the  exterior 
influences  of  the  literature  and  science  and  social  refine- 
ments of  Boston  were  not  of  a  nature  to  bear  much  upon 
his  habits  and  pursuits. 

"  There  is  one  circumstance,  however,  which  is  here 
brought  to  my  thoughts,  on  which  I  would  for  a  moment 
dwell,  because  I  am  quite  sure  that  it  gave  a  powerful  im- 
pulse to  his  ambition.  At  that  period,  all  the  scholars  of 
the  class  attended  together  in  the  recitation-room  at  the 
same  time,  and  of  course  recited  their  lessons  in  the 
presence  of  each  other.  The  average  number  in  the  classes 
did  not  generally  vary  in  any  important  degree  from  the 
numbers  now  in  college,— at  least,  not  to  a  degree  which 
would  even  now  make  the  assemblage  of  the  whole  class  in 
the  same  room  inconvenient  or  burdensome.  This  general 
assemblage  of  the  whole  class  in  the  same  room  at  the  same 
time  had,  in  my  judgment,  the  most  beneficial  influence. 
In  the  first  place,  it  enabled  the  whole  class  clearly  and 
accurately  to  ascertain  the  relative  scholarship  and  attain- 
ments of  each  scholar;  and  thus  one  great  source  of  jealousy, 
the  suspicion  of  partiality  on  the  part  of  the  college  faculty, 
was  either  extinguished  or  greatly  mitigated,  and  I  do  not 
hesitate  to  say  that  the  relative  rank  then  assigned  to  the 
various  members  of  the  class  by  their  own  classmates  was 
generally  correct,  impartial,  and  satisfactory.  In  the  next 
place,  a  generous  spirit  of  emulation  pervaded  the  whole 
class.  We  were  proud  of  our  best  scholars,  and  awarded 


RECITATIONS.  49 

them  just  praise  with  a  liberal  courtesy;  and  those  who 
were  thus  distinguished  were  stimulated  by  high  motives 
to  deserve  and  to  secure  this  approbation.  No  man,  I  am 
persuaded,  felt  more,  or  appreciated  more  justly,  than  your 
father,  this  truly  valuable  incentive  to  exertion.  He  had 
then,  as  in  his  after  life,  a  lofty  ambition  for  excellence,  and 
he  sought  reputation  by  aims  as  pure  and  moral  as  they  were 
enlightened.  I  must  confess  that  I  have  never  ceased  to 
regret,  that  the  old  system,  the  advantages  of  which  I  have 
thus  briefly  alluded  to,  has  ever  been  departed  from  in  the 
college  arrangements.  If  this  were  the  proper  time  or 
place,  I  would  state  many  reasons  why  I  hold  this  opinion, 
and  which,  at  least  in  my  own  judgment,  make  the  change 
more  than  a  doubtful  innovation." 

It  was  amid  these  influences  and  opportunities  that 
William's  genius  and  faculties  were  to  be  matured.  He 
was  now  in  his  fifteenth  year,  vigorous  in  health,  elastic 
in  spirits,  in  temper,  as  we  have  seen,  enthusiastic  yet 
self- governed,  with  powers  active  and  well  disciplined ; 
and  thus  in  every  way  fitted  to  enter  upon  this  critical 
era  of  life.  All  who  then  remember  him  speak  with 
especial  pleasure  of  his  animated  expression,  of  his 
buoyant  yet  dignified  manner,  and  of  his  general  ap- 
pearance of  overflowing  life.  Washington  Allston 
writes : — 

"  Though  small  in  stature,  his  person  at  that  time  was 
rather  muscular  than  slender ;  I  should  think  it  was  even 
athletic,  from  the  manner  in  which  he  prolonged  the  con- 
tests with  heavier  antagonists,  in  the  wrestling  matches 
that  were  then  common  among  the  students.  And  for 
animal  spirits  he  was  no  less  remarkable  than  for  his  intel- 
lectual enthusiasm ;  amounting  occasionally  to  unrestrained 
hilarity,  but  never  passing  the  bounds  of  propriety.  I  well 

VOL.  I.  D 


50  COLLEGE    LIFE. 

remember  his  laugh,  which  could  not  have  been  heartier 
without  being  obstreperous." 

This  laughter  is  said  to  have  been  not  rarely  called 
out  by  this  very  friend,  who,  possessed  of  the  most 
delicate  humour,  penetration,  and  sweetness,  charming 
from  his  courtesy  of  manner  and  nobleness  of  feeling, 
endowed  with  an  imagination  that  threw  a  lustre  round 
every  theme  he  touched,  was  then,  as  through  life,  a 
centre  of  attraction  to  all  who  could  appreciate  rare 
genius,  eloquence,  and  refinement  almost  feminine  in 
delicacy.  Allston's  room  was  on  the  way  from  the 
house  where  William  li ved  to  the  college ;  and  there  he 
used  to  stop  for  friendly  chat,  while  going  to  or  coming 
from  the  lecture-room.  One  day,  he  had  a  lesson  to 
be  accompanied  with  original  designs  in  mensuration, 
and  Allston,  who  was  already  skilful  in  the  use  of  his 
pencil,  proposed  to  give  him  an  illustration.  It  con- 
sisted of  pyramids  of  figures  heaped  upon  one  another's 
shoulders  in  various  attitudes,  each  of  which  was  a 
slightly  caricatured  portrait  of  the  professors  and  tutors. 
This  William  offered  at  recitation ;  and  the  drawing  was 
so  spirited  and  the  jest  in  itself  so  harmless,  that  the 
instructor  could  not  but  join  heartily  with  the  class  in 
the  merriment  it  excited.  This  slight  anecdote  is  men- 
tioned, because  it  indicates  a  latent  vein  of  humour, 
which,  though  hidden  in  after  years  under  a  manner 
habitually  serious,  did  yet  occasionally  emit  scintilla- 
tions. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Peirce,  who  was  then  his  tutor,  adds 
the  following  description  of  William  as  a  student : — 

"  I  have  a  distinct  recollection  of  him,  as,  at  that  time, 
a  fine-looking,  healthy,  muscular  young  man.  But  what  I 


SCHOLARSHIP.  51 

best  remember  was  his  excellence  as  a  scholar.  My  de- 
partment was  the  Latin  language ;  and  never  shall  I  forget, 
while  memory  lasts,  with  what  promptitude  and  elegance 
he  rendered  into  English  the  passages  from  the  classics 
which  he  was  called  to  recite.  I  also  heard  his  class  in 
History.  He  was  always  in  his  place ;  and  I  invariably 
gave  him  the  highest  mark  for  good  recitations.  The  go- 
vernment of  the  University  were,  I  believe,  unanimous  in 
assigning  him  the  first  rank  among  his  classmates.  This, 
in  a  class  containing  such  men  as  Judge  Story,  William 
Williams,  Arteinas  Sawyer,  Joseph  Emerson,  Dr.  Tucker- 
man,  &c.,  was  no  small  honour." 

The  classmate,  from  whom  has  been  already  quoted 
the  sketch  of  the  influences  which  surrounded  the  stu- 
dents, thus  beautifully  completes  his  friend's  portrait  as 
he  was  in  college  : — 

"  I  became  a  member,"  writes  Judge  Story,  "  of  the 
same  class  in  January,  1795,  and  was  then  first  introduced 
to  him.  He  resided  during  the  whole  of  his  collegiate 
course  with  his  uncle,  whose  house  was  at  some  distance 
from  the  colleges ;  and  partly  from  this  fact,  and  partly 
from  his  reserved,  although  bland,  deportment,  he  did  not 
associate  much  with  his  classmates  generally,  at  the  same 
time  that  he  drew  about  him  a  circle  of  choice  and  select 
friends  from  the  most  distinguished  of  his  class,  with  whom 
he  indulged  in  the  most  frank,  social  intercourse,  and  by 
whom  he  was  greatly  beloved  and  respected.  So  blameless 
was  his  life,  so  conciliatory  his  manners,  and  so  unobtrusive 
his  conduct,  that  he  enjoyed  the  rare  felicity  of  being  uni- 
versally esteemed  by  all  his  classmates,  even  by  those  to 
whom  he  was  least  known  except  in  the  lecture-room  as  a 
fellow-student.  The  little  strifes,  and  jealousies,  and  rival- 
ries of  college  life,  in  those  days,  scarcely  reached  him ; 
and  his  own  rank  in  scholarship  was,  from  the  beginning 

D  2 


52  COLLEGE    LIFE. 

to  the  conclusion  of  his  academical  career,  admitted  to  be 
of  the  highest  order.  I  do  not  believe  that  he  had  a  single 
personal  enemy  during  that  whole  period,  and  I  am  sure 
that  he  never  deserved  to  have  any ;  and  his  early  reputa- 
tion, as  it  budded,  and  blossomed,  and  bore  its  fruits,  was 
cherished  by  all  his  class  as  common  property.  We  were 
proud  of  his  distinctions,  and  gratified  when  he  was 
praised.  We  all  then  prophesied  his  future  eminence,  in 
whatever  profession  he  should  make  his  choice.  Speaking 
for  myself,  I  can  truly  say,  that  the  qualities  of  mind  and 
character,  which  then  were  unfolded  to  my  own  view,  were 
precisely  the  same  which  in  after  life  gave  him  such  cele- 
brity. 

"  Perhaps  in  no  single  study  was  he  superior  to  all  his 
classmates.  In  the  classical  studies  of  that  day  he  was 
among  the  first,  if  not  the  first ;  in  Latin  more  accom- 
plished than  in  Greek.  For  mathematics  and  metaphysics 
he  had  little  relish.  He  performed  the  prescribed  tasks  in 
these  subjects  with  care  and  diligence,  but  with  no  ambition 
for  distinction,  or  pride  of  purpose.  His  principal  love 
was  for  historical  and  literary  studies ;  for  English  litera- 
ture in  its  widest  extent,  and  for  those  comprehensive  ge- 
neralizations upon  human  life,  institutions,  and  interests, 
which  his  enthusiasm  for  the  advancement  of  his  race  and 
his  purity  of  heart  led  him  to  cherish  and  cultivate  with 
profound  attachment.  I  remember  well  with  what  a  kind- 
ling zeal  he  spoke  on  all  such  subjects ;  and  one  might 
almost  then  see  playing  about  him  the  gentle  graces  and 
the  rapt  devotion  of  a  Fenelon. 

"  In  one  particular  he  far  excelled  all  his  classmates, 
and  I  mention  it  because  it  is  precisely  that  which  in  after 
life  constituted  the  basis  of  his  fame ; — I  mean  his  power 
of  varied  and  sustained  written  composition.  It  was  racy, 
flowing,  full,  glowing  with  life,  chaste  in  ornament,  vigor- 
ous in  structure,  and  beautiful  in  finish.  It  abounded  with 


EARLY   ELOQUENCE.  53 

eloquence  of  expression, — the  spontaneous  effusion  of  a 
quick  genius  and  a  cultivated  taste, — and  was  as  persuasive 
as  it  was  imposing.  All  of  us — by  which  I  mean  his  aca- 
demical contemporaries — listened  to  his  discourses  at  the 
literary  exhibitions,  and  at  commencement,  with  admira- 
tion and  delight.  If  I  might  venture  to  rely  on  the  im- 
pressions of  those  days,  which  yet  fasten  on  my  memory  as 
truths  unaffected  by  youthful  excitement,  I  should  be 
tempted  to  say  that  we  all  listened  to  him  on  these  occa- 
sions with  the  most  devoted  attention  ;  and  that  the  melli- 
fluous tones  of  his  voice  fell  on  our  ears  with  somewhat  of 
the  power  which  Milton  has  attributed  to  Adam  when  the 
angel  ended,  so 

'  That  we  awhile 
Thought  him  still  speaking,  still  stood  fixed  to  hear.' 

I  need  scarcely  add,  that  at  the  public  exhibitions  of  his 
class  he  received  the  first  and  highest  part ;  and  on  receiv- 
ing his  degree  at  commencement,  took  also  the  first  and 
highest  oration,  with  the  approval  of  all  his  class,  that  he 
was  the  worthiest  of  it,  and  that  he  was  truly  princeps  inter 
pares.  Honours  thus  early  won  and  conceded  are  not 
without  their  value  or  their  use  as  prognostics  of  an  aus- 
picious and  brilliant  day." 

It  will  please  the  generous  to  know,  that,  while 
Judge  Story  thus  so  clearly  bore  testimony  to  his 
friend's  pre-eminence  as  a  scholar,  Dr.  Channing  was 
equally  decided  in  assigning  the  first  place  of  honour 
to  his  distinguished  classmate.  He  often  said,  "  Judge 
Story  was  entitled  to  the  first  part ;  but  he  chose  a 
poem,  and  the  oration  fell  to  me." 

It  may  be  encouraging  to  students,  also,  to  learn  that 
young  Channing  did  not  gain  the  charm  of  style  re- 
ferred to,  without  effort.  He  said  that  his  first  attempts 


54  COLLEGE    LIFE. 

were  most  awkward,  and  that  he  accustomed  himself  to 
compose  mentally  while  walking  to  and  from  the  col- 
lege. He  also  studied  elocution  and  rhetoric  as  an 
art,  with  the  aid  of  Longinus,  Harris,  Watts,  and  She- 
ridan. He  met  friends,  too,  in  private,  to  read  and 
criticise  each  other's  writings.  Above  all,  he  zealously 
took  a  part  in  the  various  literary  societies,  of  his  con- 
nection with  which  the  Hon.  D.  A.  White,  of  Salem, 
who,  though  in  the  class  before  Channing,  yet  knew 
him  well,  has  communicated  the  following  detailed 
account. 

"  His  connection  with  these  societies  could  not  fail  to 
have  an  important  influence  in  his  education, — scarcely 
less,  perhaps,  taken  in  all  its  bearings,  than  the  established 
course  of  college  studies.  The  literary  exercise  and  the 
social  communion  which  these  societies  afforded  were  hap- 
pily suited  to  the  development  of  his  fine  powers  and  ardent 
sympathies,  bis  free  and  independent  spirit,  his  social, 
friendly,  and  benevolent  heart.  You  will,  therefore,  be 
interested,  I  think,  to  know  something  of  them. 

"  The  first  literary  society  in  which  we  met  as  members 
was  the  Speaking  Club,  since  called  the  Institute  of  1770, 
the  principal  object  of  which  was  mutual  improvement  in 
elocution  and  oratory.  The  society  consisted  of  members 
from  the  two  middle  classes,  twelve  to  fifteen  from  each, 
chosen  near  the  close  of  the  Freshman  year,  and  retiring 
at  the  close  of  the  Junior  year,  with  a  valedictory  address 
from  one  of  the  members  previously  appointed  for  the  pur- 
pose. I  find  '  Channiug  '  first  mentioned  among  those 
chosen  from  bis  class.  Young  as  he  was,  he  was  also 
elected  their  president.  To  show  the  impression  which  at 
that  early  period  he  made  upon  me,  and  I  doubt  not  equally 
upon  others,  I  may  observe,  what  I  now  distinctly  remem- 
ber, that,  in  delivering  the  valedictory  address  in  behalf  of 


LITERARY   SOCIETIES,  55 

the  members  from  my  class,  as  my  eye  rested  on  him,  I  felt 
a  respect  for  his  taste  and  judgment,  for  his  authority  in 
criticism,  which  no  other  auditor  inspired.  I  might  apply 
the  same  remark  to  another  occasion  afterwards,  in  a  dif- 
ferent society,  when  I  stood  hi  a  similar  relation  to  him. 
The  authority  which  he  thus  early  acquired  among  us  arose 
not  more  from  his  general  reputation  as  a  scholar  and  critic, 
than  from  the  active  part  which  he  took  in  all  our  meetings, 
and  the  sound  judgment  and  earnest  eloquence  which  often 
distinguished  his  remarks.  His  whole  deportment  and 
conversation  among  his  associates  tended  to  the  same  result. 
With  his  natural  ardour  and  enthusiasm  were  united  so 
much  dignity  and  sweetness  of  manner  and  disposition, 
that  it  was  impossible  to  be  acquainted  with  him,  however 
transiently,  without  feeling  for  him  a  sincere  respect  and 
esteem. 

"  The  practice  of  the  Speaking  Club  at  their  meetings, 
which  were  held  in  the  evening  at  some  retired  room  in  the 
town  of  Cambridge,  was,  for  a  portion  of  the  members  to 
declaim  in  rotation,  while  each  declaimer,  after  his  perform- 
ance, stood  aside  to  receive  the  remarks  which  any  of  his 
brethren  might  think  proper  to  offer.  All  apparent  faults 
of  the  speaker,  which  he  might  correct,  or  which  others 
should  avoid,  were  freely  pointed  out  and  commented  upon, 
yet  always  in  a  spirit  of  candour  and  kindness.  Sometimes 
different  views  would  be  taken  by  various  members,  giving 
rise  to  interesting  discussions.  Thus,  these  meetings  be- 
came schools  of  mutual  improvement  hi  extemporaneous 
speaking,  as  well  as  correct  elocution.  No  one  could  be 
better  qualified  to  be  both  teacher  and  learner  in  such 
schools  than  young  Channing.  Full  of  life  and  energy, 
and  actuated  alike  by  an  ardent  love  of  knowledge  and  by 
social  benevolence,  his  noble  powers  of  thought  and  feeling 
were  never  suffered  to  sleep  when  any  intellectual  or  moral 
good  was  attainable  for  himself  or  others. 


56  COLLEGE   LIFE. 

"  But  improvement  in  public  speaking  was  not  the  only, 
nor  indeed  the  chief,  advantage  derived  from  being  a  mem- 
ber of  this  society.  The  general  influence  upon  an  in- 
genuous young  man,  arising  from  a  liberal  intercourse  •with 
so  many  of  the  most  intelligent  and  virtuous  scholars  of 
various  classes,  engaged  in  a  course  of  interesting  exercises 
for  their  common  benefit,  could  scarcely  be  too  highly  ap- 
preciated. His  interest  in  the  proper  objects  of  education 
•would  be  increased,  and  his  motives  and  views  elevated 
above  all  unworthy  pursuits,  while  he  enjoyed  the  best 
means  of  knowing  the  real  character  of  his  most  respect- 
able classmates,  and  wisely  forming  those  friendships  which 
naturally  spring  from  college  intimacies,  and  which,  when 
wisely  formed,  become  blessings  through  life. 

"  Nearly  at  the  same  time  that  Channing  left  the  Speak- 
ing Club,  he  was  chosen  into  the  society  of  the  Phi  Beta 
Kappa,  and  continued  to  enjoy,  during  his  Senior  year, 
the  advantages  of  an  intimate  literary  intercourse  with  the 
distinguished  scholars  of  his  own  class.  You  are  too  well 
acquainted  with  the  character  of  this  society,  which  has 
always  been  a  public  one,  to  make  it  necessary  for  me  to 
say  any  thing  more  about  it  than  to  give  a  general  idea  of 
the  literary  exercises  and  discussions  which  engaged  the 
attention  of  its  resident  members  at  their  regular  meetings, 
during  the  last  year  at  college.  The  object  of  these  meet- 
ings was  improvement  in  English  composition,  the  art  of 
reasoning,  and  the  practice  of  speaking;  and  the  principal 
exercises  were  dissertations  and  forensic  arguments,  pre- 
viously written,  and  read  at  the  meetings,  with  occasional 
debates  and  colloquial  discussions. 

"There  was  another  society,  of  a  similar  intellectual 
character,  into  which  Channing  was  elected,  called  the 
Adelphi,  instituted  in  1785,  designed  for  religious  im- 
provement, but  consisting  principally  of  those  members  of 
the  Senior  class  who  expected  to  study  theology  as  a  pro- 


LITERARY    SOCIETIES.  57 

fession.  Their  meetings  were  held  on  Sunday  evenings, 
and  their  exercises,  which  were  of  a  devotional  and  religious 
character,  were  chiefly  dissertations,  or  discourses,  and  dis- 
cussions on  topics  connected  with  theology  and  the  clerical 
profession*. 

"  The  Hasty-Pudding  Club,  composed  of  members  of  the 
Junior  class,  was  formed  more  exclusively  for  social  enjoy- 
ment and  recreation.  It  originated  with  my  class  in  1795, 
at  the  beginning  of  our  Junior  year,  numbering  about 
twenty  associates.  Being  transmitted  to  the  next  class,  as 
they  commenced  Juniors,  it  became  a  permanent  institution. 
I  well  remember  the  animating  presence  of  Channing 
among  those  to  whom  we  committed  the  society  on  the 
delivery  of  the  first  anniversary  address.  The  name  of  the 
club  sufficiently  shows  the  simplicity  of  the  entertainment 
originally  produced  at  their  meetings,  which  were  held  on 
Saturday  evenings,  and  appropriately  closed  with  a  hymn 
sung  to  the  tune  of  St.  Martin's. 

"  Discussions  and  debates  were  soon  introduced  at  these 
meetings,  and  the  society  during  the  first  year  assumed  a 
more  literary  and  interesting  character,  becoming,  in  fact, 
a  source  of  mutual  improvement  as  well  as  enjoyment. 
Nothing  could  be  more  pure  and  rational  than  the  pleasure 
and  recreation  which  the  members  of  this  society  enjoyed 
together. 

"There  was  another  social  club,  of  a  few  years'  longer 
standing,  and  of  a  more  luxurious  and  convivial  cast — as 
its  original  name,  the  Porcellian,  would  seem  to  indicate 
— into  which  Channing  had  the  honour  to  be  elected,  but 
which  could  never  have  been  congenial  with  his  nature ; 
and  if  he  joined  in  its  meetings  at  all,  he  soon  abandoned 
them  altogether. 

*  Channing  delivered  before  this  society  a  discourse,  which  was  so 
much  liked,  that  he  was  strongly  urged  by  his  fellows  to  print  it. 

D  3 


58  COLLEGE    LIFE. 

"The  three  first-named  societies,  though  rich  in  social 
and  intellectual  gratifications,  were  really  working  societies ; 
and,  during  the  three  most  important  years  of  college  life, 
served  admirably  well  to  occupy  a  portion  of  the  leisure 
hours  which  the  more  industrious  and  gifted  students  found 
upon  their  hands,  after  fully  attending  to  the  course  of 
studies  and  exercises  then  required  hy  the  laws  of  the  Uni- 
versity. 

"  The  course  of  prescribed  studies  and  exercises,  together 
with  those  voluntarily  pursued  in  the  several  societies  now 
described,  and  the  miscellaneous  reading  enjoyed  by  almost 
every  student,  afforded,  if  not  a  complete,  yet  a  very  excel- 
lent, system  of  instruction.  It  gave  at  least  the  bones  and 
sinews  and  muscles,  with  much  of  the  filling  out,  and 
something  of  the  embellishment,  of  a  sound  and  healthy 
education. 

"  To  a  young  man  of  an  ardent,  social  temperament,  and 
original  turn  of  thought,  as  well  as  a  highly-gifted  mind 
and  independent  spirit  of  inquiry,  it  was  especially  desir- 
able that  the  whole  of  his  time  at  college  should  not  be 
covered  by  the  prescribed  course  of  studies,  but  that  a 
liberal  portion  of  it  should  be  left  at  his  own  disposal. 

"  The  arrangement  of  the  college  exercises  was  then  so 
wisely  ordered,  that  the  morning  of  every  day,  after  the 
breakfast  hour,  was  almost  wholly  left,  to  the  two  upper 
classes  especially,  for  uninterrupted  study.  Having  thus 
secured  to  them  the  best  hours  of  the  day  for  close  and 
vigorous  application  to  study — the  best,  certainly,  both  for 
the  acquisition  of  knowledge  and  the  development  and  dis- 
cipline of  the  intellectual  faculties, — and  having  the  even- 
ing also  at  their  command,  whether  for  study,  or  the  enjoy- 
ment of  its  most  interesting  results  at  their  literary  meet- 
ings, they  had  ample  time  for  all  their  prescribed  and 
voluntary  exercises  and  pursuits,  with  the  most  animating 
motives  to  diligent  and  persevering  application.  I  cannot, 


DISTRIBUTION    OF   TIME.  59 

therefore,  easily  imagine  a  more  eligible  situation  for  young 
Channing  than  the  one  he  enjoyed  while  a  student  in 
Harvard  College, — considering,  too,  his  peculiar  advantage 
of  living  in  the  family  of  his  uncle,  the  late  Chief  Justice 
Dana,  where  the  want  of  refined  domestic  society,  the  prin- 
cipal defect  of  an  academic  residence,  was  so  entirely  sup- 
plied to  him.  Most  faithfully  did  he  improve  the  various 
privileges  he  enjoyed, — making,  undoubtedly,  more  rapid 
progress  in  good  learning  and  intellectual  accomplishments 
than  any  of  his  fellow-students,  or  than  he  himself  ever 
made  in  any  other  equal  portion  of  his  life." 

Thus  far  a  view  has  been  offered  of  the  general  in- 
fluences, only,  which  helped  to  form  young  Channing's 
mind.  But  far  more  fruitful  germs  were  planted  in 
him  by  the  religious  and  social  excitements  of  the 
time,  which  were  scattering,  as  by  the  hands  of  the 
tempest,  the  seeds  of  new  views  of  man,  society,  and 
human  life.  He  has  fortunately  left  the  following  me- 
mentos of  the  power  which  this  stirring  period  exerted 
upon  himself: — 

"  College  was  never  in  a  worse  state  than  when  I  en- 
tered it.  Society  was  passing  through  a  most  critical 
stage.  The  French  Revolution  had  diseased  the  imagina- 
tion and  unsettled  the  understanding  of  men  everywhere. 
The  old  foundations  of  social  order,  loyalty,  tradition, 
habit,  reverence  for  antiquity,  were  everywhere  shaken,  if 
not  subverted.  The  authority  of  the  past  was  gone.  The 
old  forms  were  outgrown,  and  new  ones  had  not  taken 
their  place.  The  tone  of  books  and  conversation  was  pre 
sumptuous  and  daring.  The  tendency  of  all  classes  was 
to  scepticism.  At  such  a  moment,  the  difficulties  of  edu- 
cation were  necessarily  multiplied.  The  work  required 
men  of  comprehensive  and  original  minds,  able  to  adapt 


60  COLLEGE    LIFE. 

themselves  to  the  new  state  of  the  world.  It  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at,  that  the  government  and  teachers  of  the 
college,  most  of  them  of  mature  years,  and  belonging  to 
the  old  school,  should  understand  little  of  the  wants  of  the 
times.  The  system  of  government  and  instruction  went 
on  very  much  as  it  had  done  for  years  before,  and  the  re- 
sult was  a  state  of  great  insubordination,  and  the  almost 
total  absence  of  the  respect  due  to  individuals  of  so  much 
worth.  The  state  of  morals  among  the  students  was  any- 
thing but  good ;  but  poverty,  a  dread  of  debt,  well-chosen 
friends,  the  pleasures  of  intellectual  improvement,  regard 
to  my  surviving  parent,  and  an  almost  instinctive  shrinking 
from  gross  vice,  to  which  natural  timidity  and  religious 
principle  contributed  not  a  little,  proved  effectual  safe- 
guards. I  look  back  on  the  innocence  of  my  early  life 
with  no  self-complacency,  and  with  no  disposition  to  exalt 
myself  above  those  who  yielded  to  temptation,  and  among 
whom  I  doubt  not  were  much  nobler  characters  than  my 
own.  But  I  do  recollect  it  with  great  satisfaction  and  with 
fervent  gratitude  to  Divine  Providence.  Had  the  bounds 
of  purity  once  been  broken,  I  know  not  that  I  should  ever 
have  returned  to  virtue." 

Judge  White  bears  a  similar  testimony.  He 
writes : — 

"  To  give  you  some  idea  of  the  lively  interest  taken  in 
these  subjects  by  him  and  the  students  generally  at  that 
time,  I  will  copy  a  passage  respecting  it  from  my  journal. 
— '  When  I  entered  college,  the  French  Revolution  had 
broken  up  the  foundations  of  religion  and  morals  as  well 
as  government,  and  continued  to  rage  for  some  years  with 
its  utmost  fury,  spreading  its  disastrous  influence  through- 
out the  civilized  world,  and  pouring  upon  our  country  a 
flood  of  infidel  and  licentious  principles.  Our  colleges 
could  not  escape  the  contagion  of  these  principles ;  and  I 


PREVALENT   SCEPTICISM.  61 

have  no  doubt  that  to  these,  and  the  pernicious  books  em- 
bodying them,  much  of  the  disorderly  conduct,  and  most 
of  the  infidel  and  irreligious  spirit  which  prevailed  at  that 
period  among  the  students  at  Cambridge,  may  justly  be 
attributed.  The  patrons  and  governors  of  the  college 
made  efforts  to  counteract  the  effect  of  these  fatal  prin- 
ciples by  exhortation,  and  preaching,  and  prayer,  as  well  as 
by  the  publication  and  distribution  of  good  books  and 
pamphlets. 

"  '  Watson's  Apology  for  the  Bible,'  in  answer  to  Paine's 
Age  of  Reason,  was  published  or  furnished  for  the  students 
at  college  by  the  corporation  in  1796,  and  everyone  of 
them  was  presented  with  a  copy.  So  deeply  and  so  gene- 
rally had  the  French  mania  seized  upon  the  popular  mind 
in  this  country,  and  so  susceptible  of  its  fiery  influence 
were  the  ardent  spirits  of  young  men,  all  alive  to  freedom 
of  thought,  of  action,  and  indulgence,  that  reason,  argu- 
ment, and  persuasion  had  for  a  time  no  power  against  it. 
Its  own  horrible  manifestation  of  itself  at  length  gave  them 
power  to  overcome  it,  and  scholars  as  well  as  people  were 
roused  from  their  delusion,  and  brought  to  look  back  upon 
it  with  shame  and  amazement." 

It  was  the  native  tone  of  young  Channing's  spirit, 
however,  which  made  these  movements  of  the  age  in- 
structive to  him.  Judge  Story  most  justly  adds : — 

"  From  what  has  been  already  stated,  you  will  readily 
be  enabled  to  comprehend  the  general  influences,  the 
genius  of  the  place,  which  surrounded  your  father  during 
his  college  life.  If  I  were  to  venture,  however,  upon 
giving  an  opinion  upon  such  a  subject,  necessarily  conjec- 
tural, I  should  say  that  there  were  few  or  none  of  an  ex- 
ternal character,  either  powerful  or  active.  What  he  then 
was,  was  mainly  owing  to  the  impulses  of  his  own  mind 
and  heart — warm,  elevated,  ambitious  of  distinction,  pure, 


62  COLLEGE   LIFE. 

and  energetic.  His  associations  were  with  the  best  scho- 
lars of  his  class.  His  friendships  were  mainly  confined  to 
them.  He  neither  loved  nor  courted  the  idle  or  the  indif- 
ferent ;  and  with  the  vicious  he  had  no  communion  of  pur 
suit  or  feeling.  He  then  loved  popularity,  but  it  was  the 
popularity  (as  has  been  well  said  on  another  occasion)  that 
follows,  and  is  not  sought  after.  It  is  that  which  is  won 
by  the  pursuit  of  noble  ends  by  noble  means.  But  I  can- 
not help  thinking  that  external  influences  were  not  those 
which  mainly  contributed  to  fix  the  character  of  his  life. 
The  influences  which  seem  to  me  to  have  regulated  his 
pursuits,  his  taste,  his  feelings,  and  his  principles,  were 
chiefly  from  within ; — the  workings  of  genius  upon  large 
materials,  a  deep  and  wakeful  sensibility,  an  ardent  love  of 
truth  and  moral  purity,  a  conscience  quickened  and  chas- 
tened by  an  earnest  sense  of  religious  obligation,  and  a 
spirit  elevated  by  a  warm  interest  in  the  human  race." 

And  this  leads  to  what  was  his  most  vital  experience 
in  college.  The  more  his  character  and  mind  matured, 
the  more  earnestly  did  he  devote  himself  to  aspirations 
after  moral  greatness.  He  read  with  delight  the  Stoics, 
and  was  profoundly  moved  by  the  stern  purity  which 
they  inculcated.  But  the  two  authors  who  most  served 
to  guide  his  thoughts  at  this  period  were  Hutcheson 
and  Ferguson.  It  was  while  reading,  one  day,  in  the 
former,  some  of  the  various  passages  in  which  he  asserts 
man's  capacity  for  disinterested  affection,  and  considers 
virtue  as  the  sacrifice  of  private  interests  and  the  bear- 
ing of  private  evils  for  the  public  good,  or  as  self- 
devotion  to  absolute,  universal  good,  that  there  suddenly 
burst  upon  his  mind  that  view  of  the  dignity  of  human 
nature,  which  was  ever  after  to  "uphold  and  cherish" 
him,  and  thenceforth  to  be  "the  fountain  light  of  all 
his  day,  the  master  light  of  all  his  seeing."  He  was, 


NEW   BIRTH.  63 

at  the  time,  walking  as  he  read,  beneath  a  clump  of 
willows  yet  standing  in  the  meadow  a  little  to  the  north 
of  Judge  Dana's.  This  was  his  favourite  retreat  for 
study,  being  then  quite  undisturbed  and  private,  and 
offeiing  a  most  serene  and  cheerful  prospect  across 
green  meadows  and  the  glistening  river  to  the  Brook- 
line  hills.  The  place  and  the  hour  were  always  sacred 
in  his  memory,  and  he  frequently  referred  to  them  with 
grateful  awe.  It  seemed  to  him,  that  he  then  passed 
through  a  new  spiritual  birth,  and  entered  upon  the 
day  of  eternal  peace  and  joy.  The  glory  of  the  Divine 
disinterestedness,  the  privilege  of  existing  in  a  universe 
of  progressive  order  and  beauty,  the  possibilities  of 
spiritual  destiny,  the  sublimity  of  devotedness  to  the 
will  of  Infinite  Love,  penetrated  his  soul ;  and  he  was 
so  borne  away  in  rapturous  visions,  that,  to  quote  his 
own  words,  as  spoken  to  a  friend  in  later  years, — "  I 
longed  to  die,  and  felt  as  if  heaven  alone  could  give 
room  for  the  exercise  of  such  emotions ;  but  when  I 
found  I  must  live,  I  cast  about  to  do  something  worthy 
of  these  great  thoughts;  and  my  enthusiasm  at  that 
age,  being  then  but  fifteen,  turning  strongly  to  the 
female  sex,  I  considered  that  they  were  the  powers 
which  ruled  the  world,  and  that,  if  they  would  bestow 
their  favour  on  the  right  cause  only,  and  never  be 
diverted  by  caprice,  all  would  be  fitly  arranged,  and 
triumph  was  sure.  Animated  with  this  view,  which 
unfolded  itself  with  great  rapidity  and  in  many  bear- 
ings, I  sat  down  and  wrote  to  this  lady," — laying  his 
hand  upon  his  wife's  arm,  who  was  listening  by  his 
side, — "  but  I  never  got  courage  to  send  the  letter,  and 
have  it  yet."  This  holy  hour  was  but  the  first  wind- 
flower  of  the  spring,  however,  the  opening  of  a  long 


64  COLLEGE    LIFE. 

series  of  experiences  by  which  he  was  to  be  led  up  to 
perfect  consecration.  It  is  a  significant  fact,  that  in 
this  time  of  exaltation,  when  the  young  moral  knight- 
errant  took  his  vow  of  fidelity  and  was  girt  with  the 
sword  of  love,  his  heart  should  have  instinctively  sought 
the  concert  in  action  of  woman.  This  faith  in  her 
power  of  disinterested  virtue,  so  early  felt,  grew  always 
stronger;  and  if  disappointment  in  the  characters  and 
deeds  of  men  made  him  ever  falter  for  a  moment  in  his 
generous  aims,  he  found  his  hope  and  heroism  renewed 
by  woman's  purity  and  earnestness. 

As  Hutcheson  was  the  medium  of  awakening  within 
him  the  consciousness  of  an  exhaustless  tendency  in  the 
human  soul  to  moral  perfection,  so  Ferguson  on  Civil 
Society  was  the  means  of  concentrating  his  energies 
upon  the  thought  of  social  progress.  Years  afterwards, 
his  remembrance  of  the  enthusiasm  in  the  cause  of 
humanity,  first  called  out  in  him  by  this  book,  was  so 
strong,  that  he  recommended  it  in  terms  which  would 
certainly  be  thought  by  most  readers  greatly  to  ex- 
aggerate its  merits.  But  it  is  instructive  thus  to  learn 
the  agency  whence  the  mind  and  will  of  a  man  who  in 
after  life  made  himself  so  widely  felt  received  their 
peculiar  direction.  In  his  Junior  year  he  had  already 
become  a  moral  and  social  reformer. 

In  the  letter  describing  his  classmate's  position  as  a 
student,  Judge  Story  says  he  had  but  little  relish  for 
mathematics  and  metaphysics.  This  was,  however,  a 
misconception,  and  is  contradicted  by  his  own  explicit 
statements.  Indeed,  his  taste  was  prematurely  de- 
veloped for  philosophical  investigation.  His  very 
earliest  attempt  at  sustained  composition  was  an  essay 
on  Electricity;  and  his  love  of  natural  science  was 


MATHEMATICS.  65 

always  strong.  He  delighted,  too,  in  geometry,  and 
felt  so  rare  a  pleasure  in  the  perfection  of  its  demon- 
strations, that  he  took  the  fifth  book  of  Euclid  with  him 
as  an  entertainment  during  one  vacation.  In  relation 
to  this  point,  his  classmate,  W.  Williams,  writes: — 

"The  Sophomore  year  gave  us  Euclid  to  measure  our 
strength.  Many  halted  at  the  'pons  asinorum.'  But 
C  banning  could  go  over  clear  at  the  first  trial,  as  could 
some  twelve  or  fifteen  of  us.  This  fact  is  stated  to  show 
that  he  had  a  mind  able  to  comprehend  the  abstrusities  of 
mathematics,  though  to  my  apprehension  he  excelled  more 
decidedly  in  the  Latin  and  Greek  classics,  and  had  a 
stronger  inclination  to  polite  literature." 

But  it  was  man's  spiritual  nature  and  relations  which 
chiefly  attracted  his  attention.  He  carefully  studied,  at 
this  time,  Locke,  Berkeley,  Keid,  Hume,  Priestley,  and 
especially  Price.  And  while  reading  Joufiroy  in  1840, 
he  said  to  a  friend, — "I  have  found  here  a  fact  which 
interests  me  personally  very  much.  Jouffroy  says  that 
Dr.  Price's  Dissertations  were  translated  into  German 
at  the  time  of  their  first  appearance,  and  produced  a 
much  greater  impression  there  than  they  did  in  Eng- 
land; and  he  thinks  they  were  the  first  movers  of  the 
German  mind  in  the  transcendental  direction.  Now,  I 
read  Price  when  I  was  in  college.  Price  saved  me 
from  Locke's  Philosophy.  He  gave  me  the  doctrine 
of  ideas,  and  during  my  life  I  have  written  the  words 
Love,  Eight,  &c.,  with  a  capital.  That  book  probably 
moulded  my  philosophy  into  the  form  it  has  always 
retained." 

One  other  intellectual  influence,  which  took  strong 
hold  of  him,  deserves,  too,  special  notice.  This  was 


66  COLLEGE    LIFE. 

the  newly  revived  interest  in  Shakspeare.  The  young 
men  at  Harvard  were  just  then  passionately  given  up 
to  the  study  of  the  great  dramatist;  they  contemplated 
with  awe  the  ever  various  array  of  character  and  inci- 
dent which  the  mighty  master  had  evoked  from  silence 
into  life ;  they  worked  the  veins  of  profound  philosophy, 
worldly  wisdom,  natural  joy,  to  which  he  welcomed 
them  in  his  exhaustless  mines;  they  took  note  of  his 
artistic  skill  in  the  general  arrangement  of  his  plays, 
examined  critically  the  minuter  beauties  of  his  concep- 
tions and  style,  committed  favourite  passages  to  memory, 
conversed  about  him,  quoted  him;  and  Channing's  taste 
was  so  much  moulded  by  the  impression  of  his  genius, 
that  through  life  he  was  delighted  by  few  intellectual 
treats  so  highly  as  by  recitations  from  England's  first 
poet. 

The  political  questions  of  the  day,  however,  were  the 
most  quickening  excitement  to  a  spirit  so  philanthropic 
and  hopeful,  and  through  his  whole  college  course 
Channing  was  a  fervent  politician.  As  has  before  been 
said,  one  of  his  most  favourite  studies  was  history,  and 
among  his  manuscripts  of  this  period  is  a  long,  minute, 
and  carefully  prepared  essay  on  the  English  Kevolution. 
In  public  and  private,  in  friendly  conversation,  debating 
societies,  themes,  and  college  parts,  he  took  every  oc- 
casion to  manifest  his  sympathy  with  the  social  agita- 
tions of  the  age.  But  the  most  definite  evidence  of  his 
political  zeal  may  be  found  in  the  two  following  inci- 
dents, the  first  of  which  is  thus  narrated  by  Judge 
Story:— 

"There  was  one  circumstance  of  a  public  and  political 
character,  which  was  felt  with  no  small  intensity  among  us 
near  the  close  of  our  collegiate  life.  I  allude  to  the  po- 


INTEREST    IN    POLITICS.  67 

litical  controversies  between  our  national  government  and 
that  of  France,  which  then  agitated  the  whole  country, 
and  ultimately  led  to  that  sort  of  quasi  war  and  non- 
intercourse  which  the  public  history  of  the  times  has 
fully  explained.  The  party  then  known  by  the  name  of 
Federalists  possessed  a  very  large  portion  of  the  wealth, 
the  talents,  and  the  influence  of  the  country.  President 
Adams  was  then  at  the  head  of  the  national  administra- 
tion ;  a  majority  of  Congress  supported  all  his  leading 
measures ;  and  in  New  England  his  popularity  was  al- 
most unbounded,  and  sustained  by  a  weight  of  opinion 
and  of  numbers  which  is  without  example  in  our  coun- 
try. The  opposition  to  his  administration  here  was  com- 
paratively small,  although  in  the  Southern  States  it  was 
formidable.  Party  spirit  ran  exceedingly  high,  and,  in- 
deed, with  almost  irrepressible  fury.  Badges  of  loyalty 
to  our  own  government,  and  of  hatred  to  France,  were 
everywhere  worn  in  New  England,  and  the  cockade  was  a 
signal  of  patriotic  devotion  to  '  Adams  and  Liberty.' 

"  It  was  impossible  that  the  academical  walls  could  es- 
cape the  common  contagion.  The  students  became  ex- 
ceedingly interested  in  the  grave  questions  then  before 
the  country.  They  were  nearly  all  united,  heart  and 
hand,  in  favour  of  the  national  administration,  and  warmly 
espoused  the  cause  of  their  country.  In  our  Senior  year 
(1798),  your  father,  who  was  among  the  most  warm  and 
decided  in  his  political  opinions,  procured  a  meeting  to  be 
had  of  the  students,  with  the  sanction  of  the  college  go- 
vernment, for  the  purpose  of  expressing  their  opinions  on 
the  then  existing  crisis  of  our  public  affairs.  The  meet- 
ing was  held.  He  made  a  very  eloquent  and  powerful 
speech,  and  was  seconded  with  great  zeal  and  earnestness 
by  myself  and  others.  The  result  was,  that  a  committee 
was  appointed  to  draw  up  an  address  to  President  Adams, 
of  which  your  father  was  the  chairman.  The  address, 


68  COLLEGE    LIFE. 

with  the  exception  of  a  single  passage  afterwards  added, 
was  written  by  himself;  it  was  reported  to  the  students, 
and  was  by  them  accepted  by  acclamation.  It  was  sent  to 
President  Adams,  who  made  a  written  reply  in  a  very 
commendatory  style;  and  both  the  address  and  the  an- 
swer were  published  in  the  newspapers  of  the  day,  and 
received  general  applause." 

In  the  Boston  Centinel  of  May  19, 1798,  it  is  found 
thus  reported : — 

"  HARVAED  UNIVERSITY. 

"  The  committee  of  the  students  of  Harvard,  mentioned 
in  the  last  Centinel,  offered  the  following  address,  which 
was  immediately  signed  by  one  hundred  and  seventy  stu- 
dents *. 

"  ADDRESS 

"  TO  HIS  EXCELLENCY  JOHN  ADAMS, 

.  "  PRESIDENT  OF   THE   UNITED   STATES. 

"  SIB, — We  flatter  ourselves  you  will  not  be  displeased 
at  hearing  that  the  Avails  of  your  native  seminary  are  now 
inhabited  by  youth  possessing  sentiments  congenial  with 
your  own.  We  do  not  pretend  to  great  political  sagacity; 
we  wish  only  to  convince  mankind  that  we  inherit  the  in- 
trepid spirit  of  our  ancestors,  and  disdain  submission  to 
the  will  of  a  rapacious,  lawless,  and  imperious  nation. 
Though  removed  from  active  life,  we  have  watched  with 
anxiety  the  interests  of  our  country.  We  have  seen  a 
nation  in  Europe  grasping  at  universal  conquest,  tramp- 
ling on  the  laws  of  God  and  nations,  systematizing  rapine 
and  plunder,  destroying  foreign  governments  by  the 
strength  of  her  arms  or  the  pestilence  of  her  embraces, 

*  The  college  contained  at  that  time  about  173  students,  according  to 
the  number  of  graduates  in  the  Triennial  Catalogue  for  1798,  1799, 
1800,  and  1801. 


ADDRESS  OF  THE  STUDENTS.          69 

and  scattering  principles  which  subvert  social  order,  raise 
the  storms  of  domestic  faction,  and  perpetuate  the  horrors 
of  revolution.  We  have  seen  this  same  nation  violating 
our  neutral  rights,  spurning  our  pacific  proposals,  her  pi- 
ratical citizens  sweeping  our  ships  from  the  seas,  and 
venal  presses  under  her  control  pouring  out  torrents  of 
abuse  on  men  who  have  grown  gray  in  our  service.  We 
have  seen  her  ministers  in  this  country  insulting  our  go- 
vernment by  a  daring,  unprecedented,  and  contemptuous 
appeal  to  the  people,  and  her  agents  at  home  offering 
conditions  which  slaves  whose  necks  have  grown  to  the 
yoke  would  reject  with  indignation.  We  have  seen  this, 
Sir,  and  our  youthful  blood  has  boiled  within  us.  When, 
in  opposition  to  such  conduct,  we  contemplate  the  mea- 
sures of  our  own  government,  we  cannot  but  admire  and 
venerate  the  unsullied  integrity,  the  decisive  prudence, 
and  dignified  firmness  which  have  uniformly  characterized 
your  administration.  Impressed  with  these  sentiments, 
we  now  solemnly  offer  the  unwasted  ardour  and  unim- 
paired energies  of  our  youth  to  the  service  of  our  coun- 
try. Our  lives  are  our  only  property;  and  we  were  not 
the  sons  of  those  who  sealed  our  liberties  with  their  blood, 
if  we  would  not  defend  with  these  lives  that  soil  which 
now  affords  a  peaceful  grave  to  the  mouldering  bones  of 
our  forefathers." 

The  other  incident  referred  to  at  once  illustrates  the 
state  of  feeling  in  those  times,  and  gives  proof  that 
the  unconquerable  love  of  free  thought  and  speech, 
which  characterized  Channing's  manhood,  was  strong 
in  youth. 

At  the  graduation  of  his  class,  the  highest  honour, 
that  is,  the  closing  oration  at  commencement,  was 
assigned  to  him.  The  subject  was  "  The  Present 
Age."  But  a  condition  was  added,  that  all  political 


70  COLLEGE   LIFE. 

discussion  should  be  excluded.  The  reason  for  this  re- 
striction was,  that  the  students  of  the  previous  year  had 
given  great  offence  to  the  Democratic  party  hy  the 
severity  of  their  remarks.  And  as  the  college  faculty 
were  on  the  Federal  side,  candour  seemed  to  demand 
that  commencement- day  should  not  he  embittered  by 
political  jealousies.  They  therefore  prohibited  the 
introduction  of  party  questions.  The  class,  however, 
were  highly  incensed  at  what  they  thought  an  intoler- 
able infringement  of  their  rights;  and  one  of  them 
wrote  to  Channing  in  the  following  fiery  strain  : — 

"  I  could  join  you,  my  friend,  in  offering  an  unfeigned 
tear  to  the  manes  of  those  joys  which  are  for  ever  fled ; 
but  indignation  has  dried  up  the  source  from  which  that 
tear  must  flow.  The  government  of  college  have  com- 
pleted the  climax  of  their  despotism.  They  have  obtained 
an  arret,  which  from  its  features  I  could  swear  is  the  off- 
spring of  the  French  Directory.  Although  they  pretend 
to  be  firm  friends  to  American  liberty  and  independence, 
their  embargo  on  politics,  which  has  subjected  you  to  so 
many  inconveniences,  is  strong  proof  to  me  that  they  are 
Jacobins,  or  at  best  pretended  patriots,  who  have  not  cou- 
rage to  defend  the  rights  of  their  country. 

"William,  should  you  be  deprived  of  a  degree  for  not 
performing  at  commencement,  every  friend  of  liberty  must 
consider  it  as  a  glorious  sacrifice  on  the  altar  of  your 
country." 

The  "  inconveniences "  referred  to  arose  from  the 
fact,  that  Channing,  so  soon  as  he  learned  the  restric- 
tions, formally  declined  to  receive  his  part.  The  pre- 
sident at  first  accepted  his  resignation,  thinking  it 
improbable  that  a  young  man  would  be  willing  to  give 
up  the  honours  of  the  day,  and  even  to  endanger  his 


ORATION.  71 

degree,  for  such  a  trifle.  But  after  a  fortnight,  finding 
him  resolute,  the  government  sent  for  him,  insisted 
upon  his  performing  his  part,  and  made  such  conces- 
sions, that  his  hrother,  in  writing  to  him,  said, — "  I 
think  you  have  gained  a  most  complete  triumph.  The 
government  have  certainly  treated  you  with  a  most 
flattering  courtesy ;  how  could  you  expect  them  to 
yield  more  ? "  His  grandfather,  uncles,  mother,  all 
joined,  too,  in  urging  him  to  rest  contented  with  the 
concessions  already  made,  declaring  that  "  such  advice 
would  be  approved  in  the  very  academy  of  honour ; 
that  even  the  pride  of  a  knight- errant  would  not  he 
wounded  by  the  course ;  that  he  had  struggled  long 
enough  for  glory,  and  that  yielding  in  this  manner  was 
rather  a  triumph  than  a  defeat."  Thus  constrained  by 
the  entreaties  of  all  who  loved  him,  he  finally  agreed 
to  comply  with  the  terms  which  the  government  had 
granted  to  his  firmness,  and  went  to  Newport  to  pass 
the  vacation  and  write  his  oration.  The  explanations 
and  assurances  of  the  president  permitted  him  to  ex- 
press himself  freely;  and  though  he  softened  and 
shortened  what  otherwise  he  would  have  said,  he  did 
not  sacrifice  conscience  or  self-respect.  Throughout, 
it  was  a  bold  and  earnest  discussion  of  the  exciting 
topics  suggested  by  the  French  Revolution.  In  de- 
livering it,  he  spoke  with  great  dignity  and  decision  ; 
and  rising,  toward  the  close,  to  an  impassioned  burst 
of  feeling,  he  said,  with  great  energy,  and  a  look  di' 
rected  to  the  faculty  which  showed  how  earnestly  he 
was  inclined  to  protest  against  any  restraint  upon  free 
speech, — "  But  that  I  am  forbid,  I  could  a  tale  unfold, 
which  would  harrow  up  your  souls."  As  the  circum- 
stances thus  referred  to  were  generally  known,  this 


72  COLLEGE    LIFE. 

sally  was  received  with  unbounded  applause ;  and  when 
he  left  the  stage,  some  time  elapsed  before  the  cheering 
ceased.  "  Many  years,"  writes  the  distinguished  class- 
mate so  often  quoted,  "  have  passed  since  then,  but 
the  impression  left  on  my  mind  of  the  brilliancy,  vivid- 
ness, and  eloquence  of  that  oration  is  yet  fresh." 

With  this  characteristic  act,  at  which,  in  later  years, 
he  was  much  amused  for  its  excess  of  enthusiasm,  Mr. 
Channing  closed  his  college  career  in  the  summer  of 
1798. 

Mr.  Channing  was  now  to  select  a  profession.  He 
had  been  a  hard  student,  "  not  a  mere  seeker  of  a 
diploma,"  as  his  uncle  Henry  approvingly  wrote,  "  but 
a  real  worker,"  and  had  gained  universal  respect  for  his 
rare  powers  and  attainments;  his  memory  had  been 
stored  by  extensive  reading,  and  his  judgment  enlarged 
by  constant  correspondence  with  his  sound-headed  and 
sound-hearted  grandfather  Ell ery ;  he  had  joined  cor- 
dially in  social  pleasures,  though  with  strict  regard  to 
temperance, — it  being  remembered  that  Story  and  he 
invariably  declined  the  use  of  wine,  even  at  convivial 
entertainments, — and  he  had  won  the  love  of  his  asso- 
ciates by  generous  sentiments,  cheerfulness,  and  unas- 
suming courtesy;  though  so  young,  he  had  already 
taken  decided  ground  as  the  advocate  of  high  prin- 
ciples in  religion,  morals,  and  politics ;  he  was  all  alive 
to  his  responsibilities,  especially  to  his  family  in  their 
poor  estate ;  and  now  in  what  way  could  he  best  em- 
ploy his  energies  and  gifts  ?  He  did  not  hesitate  as 
to  his  true  calling.  In  his  Junior  year,  indeed,  he  had 
written  to  Allston, — "  I  have  no  inclination  for  either 
divinity,  law,  or  physic ;"  and  still  later  he  had  so 
seriously  thought  of  becoming  a  physician,  that  his 


CHOICE    OF   A   PROFESSION.  73 

grandfather  wrote  to  him  at  length  in  relation  to  the 
duties  and  opportunities  of  that  profession,  and  sent  to 
him  lists  of  the  medical  books  which  he  should  read. 
Even  at  the  time  when  he  graduated,  most  of  his  class- 
mates supposed  that  he  would  choose  the  law,  as  the 
occupation  best  fitted  to  give  a  free  field  for  the  exercise 
of  his  powers  of  eloquence,  and  urged  him  to  take 
that  course ;  but  to  all  such  appeals  to  his  ambition 
he  answered, — "  I  think  there  is  a  wider  sphere  for  use- 
fulness and  honour  in  the  ministry."  The  path  of 
duty  marked  out  for  him  by  higher  wisdom  was  plain. 
"In  my  Senior  year,"  he  writes,  "  the  prevalence  of 
infidelity,  imported  from  France,  led  me  to  inquire  into 
the  evidences  of  Christianity,  and  then  /  found  for 
what  I  was  made.  My  heart  embraced  its  great  ob- 
jects with  an  interest  which  has  been  increasing  to 
this  hour."  He  was  the  same  man  then  that  he  ma- 
nifested himself  to  be  in  mature  life.  As  his  class- 
mate, the  Hon.  Richard  Sullivan,  bears  witness,  "  there 
was  in  him  the  same  clear  and  quick  apprehension  of 
truth,  and  the  tendency  to  look  higher  than  to  human 
authority,  the  same  warm  interest  in  the  good  and 
beautiful,  the  same  temperate  earnestness  and  inde- 
pendence in  maintaining  opinions,  the  same  perfect 
purity,  simplicity,  and  orderly  course  of  life.  He 
seemed  destined  by  Providence  to  influence  largely  the 
character  of  the  times  in  which  he  lived." 

He  returned,  immediately  on  leaving  Cambridge,  to 
his  mother's  house  in  Newport,  there  to  arrange  his 
future  plans;  and  the  following  letters  will  show  at 
once  the  temper  of  his  college  life,  and  the  feelings 
with  which  he  adopted  his  profession.  The  first  is  one 

VOL.  I.  E 


74  COLLEGE    LIFE. 

written  many  years  later  to  a  young  friend,  whom  he 
hoped  his  own  experience  might  aid. 

"  At  your  age  I  was  poor,  dependent,  hardly  able  to  buy 
clothes,  but  the  great  idea  of  improvement  had  seized  upon 
me.  I  wanted  to  make  the  most  of  myself.  I  was  not 
satisfied  with  knowing  things  superficially  or  by  halves,  but 
tried  to  get  some  comprehensive  views  of  what  I  studied. 
I  had  an  end,  and,  for  a  boy,  a  high  end  in  view.  I  did 
not  think  of  fitting  myself  for  this  or  that  particular  pur- 
suit, but  for  any  to  which  events  might  call  me.  I  now 
see,  that,  had  I  had  wiser  direction,  I  might  have  done 
more ;  but  I  did  something.  The  idea  of  carrying  myself 

forward  did  a  great  deal  for  me I  never  had  an 

anxious  thought  about  my  lot  in  life.  When  I  was  poor, 
ill,  and  compelled  to  work  with  little  strength,  I  left  the 
future  to  itself.  I  was  not  buoyed  up  by  any  hopes  of  pro- 
motion. I  wanted  retirement,  obscurity.  My  after  dis- 
tinction has  indeed  been  forced  on  me 

"  You  are  in  danger  of  reading  too  fast.  In  studying 
history,  I  sometimes  made  an  abstract  from  recollection, 

sometimes  thought  over  what  I  had  read Walk  out 

in  the  pleasant,  still  autumnal  days.  Such  days  did  a 
great  deal  for  my  mind  and  heart,  when  I  was  in  Cam- 
bridge  

"  I  want  you  to  find  immediate  pleasure  in  the  acquisi- 
tion of  knowledge,  in  the  works  of  genius  and  art,  in 
poetry,  in  beauty  everywhere,  and  in  vigorous  action  of  the 
intellect.  In  youth  it  is  not  a  good  sign  to  inquire  per- 
petually, What  good  will  this  or  that  study  do  ?  Our  kind 
Creator  then  allures  us  to  the  useful,  by  joining  an  imme- 
diate satisfaction  to  studies  or  pursuits  which  refine  or 
elevate  us.  ..... 

"  Suppose  a  boy  to  choose  to  be  a  blacksmith,  and  to 


GENERAL    EDUCATION.  75 

prepare  himself  for  his  business  by  exercising  his  arm  per- 
petually, to  the  neglect  of  his  other  limbs  and  muscles, 
would  he  become  another  Vulcan  ?  Would  he  not  do  more 
for  himself  by  invigorating  his  whole  system,  and  getting 
general  health  ?  You  can  easily  apply  this  to  the  mind. 
What  you  want  is  to  give  tone,  freedom,  life  to  all  your 
faculties,  to  get  a  disposable  strength  of  intellect,  a  power 
to  use  in  whatever  course  you  may  pursue.  A  professional 
education,  or  one  designed  to  fit  you  for  a  particular  pro- 
fession, would  make  but  half  a  man  of  you.  You  are  not 
to  grow  up  merely  for  a  particular  occupation,  but  to  per- 
form all  the  duties  of  a  man,  to  mix  in  society,  to  converse 
with  intelligent  men  of  all  pursuits,  to  meet  emergencies, 
to  be  prepared  for  new  and  unexpected  situations.  A 
general,  liberal,  generous  education  is  what  you  need. 
Every  study  into  which  you  throw  your  soul,  in  which  you 
gain  truth  and  exercise  your  faculties,  is  a  preparation  for 
your  future  course.  I  have  found  a  good  in  every  thing  I 
have  learned.  By  degrees  your  destiny  will  open  before 
you.  You  will  learn  what  you  are  good  for,  what  you  are 
made  for.  I  can  say  nothing  more  definite,  and  this  is 
definite  enough  and  full  of  animation.  Do  your  duty,  and 
you  cannot  fail  to  fit  yourself  for  an  honourable  work." 

The  next  is  from  his  classmate,  Arthur  Maynard 
Walter,  who  died  too  early  for  his  rare  genius  to  be 
fully  known  and  prized.  It  illustrates,  in  an  agreeable 
way,  the  warmth  of  Mr.  Channing's  college  friendships. 

"  I  have  just  taken  your  letter  from  the  office  with  all 
the  fervour  of  a  brother.  I  paid  for  it  twenty-five  cents, 
and  would  have  paid  twenty-five  guineas  had  I  had  them. 
It  is  full  of  the  enthusiasm  that  I  always  admired  in  you, 
and  occasioned  all  those  indescribable  sensations  which 
arise  from  seeing  opened  to  us  the  heart  of  a  friend.  I 
cannot  agree  to  the  present  moral  system  of  things.  If 

E  2 


76  COLLEGE    LIFE. 

we  are  to  form  connections  at  fourteen  which  are  to  be 
broken  at  eighteen, — connections  which  involve  the  best 
feelings  of  the  soul,  and  which  may  affect  in  a  great  mea- 
sure the  future  happiness  or  future  misery  of  our  lives, — 
we  had  better  be  without  feeling,  and  live  in  a  state  of 
solitude.  I  have  enjoyed  no  nights  equal  to  those,  when 
you  used  to  call  at  my  window,  and  I  blew  out  the  candle, 
and  we  went  over  to  Shaw's.  What  nights  those  were ! 
And  the  days,  too,  you  well  know.  Our  classic  ground, 
Channing,  I  dare  say,  is  overrun  with  weeds  and  with 
grass.  The  careless  passer-by  never  thinks  that  every  inch 
of  ground  was  consecrated  to  affection,  and  every  rock  on 
which  we  sat,  and  every  rail  on  which  we  leaned,  had  a 
value  such  as  vulgar  souls  can  never  know.  This  is  a 
theme  on  which  I  could  dwell  long." 

The  closeness  of  the  bond  which  united  these  young 
friends  is  thus  also  testified  to  by  Mr  Channing : — 

"  Newport,  October,  1798. 

"  MY  DEAR  SHAW, — I  can  clearly  discover  from 's 

last  letter,  that  you  doubt  the  sincerity  and  continuance  of 
my  friendship.  Have  you  lived  four  years  with  me,  and 
do  you  know  so  little  of  me  as  to  think  that  time  or  any 
new  attachment  can  tear  from  me  the  memory  of  'joys 
that  are  past  ? '  They  are  entwined  with  the  threads  of 
my  existence ;  and  it  is  only  by  rending  these  asunder,  that 
you  can  destroy  the  melancholy  recollection  of  our  mutual 
happiness.  I  still  remember  your  social  fire, — how  we 
collected  round  it, — shortened  the  long  winter  nights  by 
nuts,  cigars,  and  social  converse,  and  strengthened  the  ties 
of  our  friendship.  I  was  then  supremely  happy.  I  can 
still  remember  our  walks  by  moonlight, — how  we  strolled 
over  the  common,  or  took  the  solitary  road  to  the  Judge's. 
We  leaned  on  each  other's  arms  for  support ;  we  grew 
warm  in  friendly  argument ;  the  jarrings  which  sometimes 


COLLEGE    FRIENDSHIP.  77 

prevailed  among  us  ouly  sweetened  the  concord  and  har- 
mony which  succeeded.  0,  William !  the  memory  of  those 
days  will  be  ever  fresh  within  me.  Jt  has  drawn  many 
tears  down  my  cheek.  I  am  sensible  that  my  happy  days 
have  passed,  and  I  can  only  weep  for  them.  My  walks 
now  are  solitary ;  no  friendly  voice  to  cheer  me ;  no  con- 
genial soul  to  make  a  partner  of  my  joy  or  sorrow.  I  am, 
indeed,  in  the  midst  of  my  family,  with  the  best  of  mothers, 
brothers,  and  sisters.  But,  alas !  I  have  no  friend. 

"  There  is  a  beach  about  a  mile  from  the  town.  I  never 
saw  elsewhere  such  magnificence,  grandeur,  and  sublimity, 
as  the  wild  scenery  of  nature  here  presents.  The  towering 
and  craggy  rocks,  the  roar  of  the  waves,  the  foam  with 
which  they  dash  on  the  shore,  their  irregular  succession, 
and  the  boundless  ocean  before,  all  contribute  to  inspire 
one  with  awe  and  delight.  Here  I  go  once  a  day.  Some- 
times I  compare  my  fortune  to  the  billows  before  me.  I 
extend  my  arms  towards  them,  I  run  to  meet  them,  and 
wish  myself  buried  beneath  their  waters.  Sometimes  my 
whole  soul  ascends  to  the  God  of  nature,  and  in  such  a 
temple  I  cannot  but  be  devout.  Thus  I  am  either  borne 
to  heaven  on  '  rapture's  wing  of  fire,'  or  else  I  am  plunged 
into  the  depths  of  despair.  How  different  from  my  situ- 
ation at  college  !  There  I  had  friends  to  fly  to,  when  the 
world  looked  gloomy,  and  forgot  my  miseries  in  the  circle 
of  my  equals.  Hera  I  brood  over  melancholy. 

"  I  am  now  on  the  point  of  changing  my  mode  of  life. 
New  prospects  have  dawned  upon  me.  A  field  has  opened 
for  exertion.  I  mean  to  rouse  all  my  energies,  shake  off 
this  lassitude  of  soul,  and  lose  my  sorrows  in  business. 
God  alone  knows  what  success  will  attend  me.  I  mean  to 
do  my  duty,  and  I  feel  careless  about  the  event.  I  love 
misfortunes,  when  they  spring  from  a  resolute  adherence  to 
virtuous  conduct.  I  trust  that  my  burdens  will  be  no 
heavier  than  I  can  bear,  and  I  shall  be  cheered  when  I 


78  COLLEGE    LIFE. 

think  that  the  struggles  which  I  make  are  the  struggles  of 
honest  industry. 

"  I  suppose  you  know  the  profession  which  I  mean  to 
follow.  Yes,  Shaw,  I  shall  be  a  minister,  a  shepherd  of 
the  flock  of  Jesus,  a  reformer  of  a  vicious,  and  an  in- 
structor of  an  ignorant  world.  I  look  forward  to  a  better 
country,  and,  while  I  am  journeying  toward  it  myself,  I 
wish  to  lead  others  the  same  way.  I  know  that  you  revere 
religion ;  and  I  wish  that  in  your  political  career  you  would 
sometimes  look  beyond  the  strife,  crimes,  and  intrigues  of 
nations,  to  the  harmony  and  blessedness  of  the  Christian 
society  in  another  state.  We  shall  take  different  courses 
in  life ;  but  we  shall  meet  in  the  grave.  We  shall  bow 
before  the  same  tribunal,  and,  I  trust,  shall  rejoice  for  ever 
in  the  same  heaven,  and  join  in  the  same  celebration  of 
Almighty  love.  You  will  tliink  I  have  grown  quite  minis- 
terial, but,  believe  me,  I  cherished  the  same  sentiments  in 
college  as  I  do  now.  In  my  view,  religion  is  but  another 
name  for  happiness,  and  I  am  most  cheerful  when  I  am 
most  religious." 


CHAPTEK  IV. 

RICHMOND. 

JET.  18-20.     1798-1800. 

MR.  CHANNING  was  now  in  his  nineteenth  year;  and 
feeling  that  his  friends  had  done  all  for  him  that  was 
in  their  power,  and  yet  more,  that  the  whole  of  his 
mother's  small  income  was  needed  for  the  family,  he 
determined  to  secure  some  means  of  maintenance  while 
pursuing  his  professional  studies.  His  state  of  mind 
he  thus  discloses  to  his  uncle : — "  I  am  happy  to  hear 
that  you  approve  of  the  step  I  have  taken.  It  has 
always  heen  a  favourite  wish  of  my  heart  to  support 
myself.  Bitter  is  the  hread  of  dependence.  All  I  had 
a  right  to  expect  from  my  friends  was  an  education. 
This  I  have  obtained,  and  I  trust  that  Heaven  will 
smile  on  my  exertions."  He  was  most  happy,  there- 
fore, to  receive  an  invitation  from  David  Meade  Ran- 
dolph, Esq.,  of  Richmond,  Virginia,  who  was  then  on 
a  visit  at  Newport,  and  was  struck  with  the  young  man's 
intelligence,  refinement,  and  liberal  spirit,  to  reside  in 
his  family,  as  tutor;  and  in  October  of  1798  he  left 
Newport  for  the  South. 

How  much  his  family  mourned  this  necessary  sepa- 
ration appears  by  the  following  extracts  from  a  letter  of 
his  brother  Francis,  then  residing  as  a  lawyer  at  New- 
port. "William  has  gone,  and  most  of  my  joys  have 


80  RICHMOND. 

gone  with  him.  You  know  not  the  worth  of  this 
'  amiahle  and  almost  divine  fellow/  as  one  of  his  class- 
mates calls  him.  Where  shall  I  find  his  equal?  In 
vain  do  I  search  the  whole  round  of  my  acquaintance. 
So  pure  a  mind,  united  with  so  noble  a  spirit,  and  such 
exquisite  feelings,  I  nowhere  discern."  To  his  mother, 
especially,  his  departure  was  a  source  of  the  deepest 
sorrow.  And  to  this  overflowing  affection  he  thus 
touchingly  alludes  in  the  first  letter  after  his  arrival. 

November,  1798. 

"MY  DEAR  MOTHER, — A  favourable  opportunity  has  just 
offered,  by  which  I  can  write  to  all  my  friends  without 
subjecting  them  to  the  expense  of  postage.  I  begin  with 
you.  To  you  I  owe  the  highest  obligations.  The  anxiety 
and  tenderness  which  you  discovered  at  my  departure  from 
Newport  will  never  be  forgotten.  I  wish  that  my  friends 
were  not  so  deeply  interested  in  my  welfare.  It  makes 
both  them  and  me  unhappy.  Every  misfortune  I  expe- 
rience is  aggravated  by  thinking  on  the  pain  which  it  will 
occasion  them.  I  often  wish  that  I  had  been  thrown  loose 
on  the  wide  ocean  of  life,  without  one  eye  to  watch  with 
friendly  care  my  various  successes,  or  shed  a  tear  over  my 
follies  and  miseries.  When  I  was  dashing  over  the  billows, 
on  my  passage,  I  felt  no  fear  for  myself;  but  I  was  dis- 
tressed when  I  remembered  that  I  had  left  a  mother  behind 
me  who  was  trembling  with  anxiety  lest  her  son  might  be 
buried  in  the  merciless  waves.  I  understand  from  Francis's 
letter  that  you  had  many  high  winds  after  I  left  you;  and 
did  not  every  gale  come  to  me  loaded  with  the  sighs  of  a 
mother?  I  mention  this  because  I  wish  you  not  to  make 
yourself  unhappy  by  your  concern  for  me.  I  know  that 
I  am  far  from  home,  where  nothing  but  your  good  wishes 
can  reach  me.  I  am  far  from  your  social  fireside.  I  am 
neither  a  sharer  in  your  joys,  nor  the  object  of  your  fond 


SOCIETY.  81 

attentions,  But  still  the  same  sun  shines  upon  us,  the 
same  providence  is  extended  to  both  of  us,  and  the  same 
God  who  protects  and  blesses  you  will  watch  over  me  and 
mete  me  out  a  portion  of  happiness.  Our  distance  from 
each  other  cannot  remove  either  of  us  from  our  common 
Parent.  It  is  this  truth  which  consoles  me  in  my  absence 
from  home,  and  I  wish  that  it  might  banish  from  your 
bosom  those  corroding  fears  for  my  safety,  which,  added 
to  the  load  of  your  domestic  cares,  must  make  life  wearisome 
to  you.  I  feel  every  day  more  and  more  attached  to  my 
new  abode.  I  am  treated  with  every  attention  which 
hospitality  can  bestow.  My  duties  are  neither  numerous 
nor  irksome,  and  I  can  find  time  enough  for  study.  I  am 
resolved  to  prosecute  divinity.  My  highest  hopes  of  hap- 
piness are  beyond  the  grave,  and  I  cannot  do  more  good  to 
mankind  than  by  teaching  them  also  to  lay  up  treasures 
where  neither  moth  nor  rust  can  corrupt  them.  My  dear 
mother,  though  I  have  so  lately  left  you,  I  begin  already  to 
anticipate  the  moment  when  I  shall  see  you  again.  Time 
has  swifter  wings  than  the  eagle.  Months  and  years  will 
fly  away, — and  with  what  rapture  shall  I  press  you  all  to 
my  bosom !  Hope  is  the  anchor  of  the  soul.  I  lean  upon 
it  perpetually.  I  paint  more  blissful  scenes  in  prospect 
than  I  have  ever  yet  experienced ;  and  should  they  prove 
as  baseless  as  the  fabric  of  a  vision,  I  can  still  boast  of  the 
happiness  which  they  give  in  anticipation.  I  dare  not-ask, 
but  I  should  like  to  receive,  a  few  lines  from  you. 

"Your  affectionate  son." 

In  Mr.  Kandolph's  family  Mr.  Channing  resided  as 
an  honoured  guest,  and  found  there  a  circle  of  warm 
friends.  Mr.  Randolph  was  at  this  time  the  Marshal 
of  the  United  States  for  Virginia,  and  his  house  was 
frequented  by  the  most  eminent  citizens  of  Richmond 
and  of  the  State,  first  among  whom  to  be  mentioned 

E  3 


82  RICHMOND. 

with  honour  was  the  late  Chief  Justice  Marshall,  who 
was  then  in  the  full  vigour  of  his  manhood,  and  com- 
manded universal  respect  for  his  uprightness,  wisdom, 
and  dignity  of  presence.  How  much  a  young  man  of 
Mr.  Channing's  energy  appreciated  opportunities  so 
rare,  for  enlarging  his  experience  and  acquaintance  with 
mankind,  can  be  readily  understood.  He  visited  freely 
in  Richmond,  availed  himself  of  the  hospitalities  offered 
by  the  neighbouring  gentry,  and  on  various  occasions 
passed  periods  of  leisure  at  plantations,  besides  travelling 
with  the  Randolphs  in  the  summer  season.  Virginia 
was  at  this  time  still  in  her  prosperity,  and  scarcely 
beginning  to  reap  the  penalty  which  slavery  has  since 
brought,  in  blasted  fields,  deserted  mansions,  ruined 
estates,  and  scattered  families;  and  Mr.  Charming  felt 
deeply  the  charm  of  the  cordial  and  elegant  courtesy 
which  everywhere  greeted  him.  With  more  enthu- 
siasm certainly  than  discrimination,  he  wrote  to  his 
brother : — 

"I  believe  I  have  before  told  you  that  the  manners  of 
the  Virginians  are  more  free  than  ours.  There  is  one 
circumstance  which  particularly  pleases  me.  The  men  do 
not  forget  the  friendship  and  feelings  of  their  youth.  They 
call,  each  other  by  their  Christian  names.  They  address 
each  other  and  converse  together  with  the  same  familiarity 
and  frankness  which  they  used. to  do  when  they  were  boys. 
How  different  from  our  Northern  manners !  There,  avarice 
and  ceremony  at  the  age  of  twenty  graft  the  coldness  and 
tmfeelingness  of  age  on  the  disinterested  ardour  of  youth." 

And  again  to  Mr.  Shaw,  he  says, — 

"I  believe  I  have  praised  the  Virginians  before,  in  my 
letters,  for  their  hospitality.  I  blush  for  my  own  people, 
when  I  compare  the  selfish  prudence  of  a  Yankee  with  the 


SLAVERY.  83 

generous  confidence  of  a  Virginian.  Here  I  find  great 
vices,  but  greater  virtues  than  I  left  behind  me.  There  is 
one  single  trait  which  attaches  me  to  the  people  I  live  with 
more  than  all  the  virtues  of  New  England.  They  love 
money  less  than  we  do.  They  are  more  disinterested. 
Their  patriotism  is  not  tied  to  their  purse-strings.  Could 
I  only  take  from  the  Virginians  their  sensuality  and  their 
slaves,  I  should  think  them  the  greatest  people  in  the  world. 
As  it  is,  Shaw,  with  a  few  great  virtues  they  have  innumer- 
able vices." 

But  pleasing  social  relations  did  not  deaden  his  con- 
science, as  in  the  case  of  others  they  have  too  often 
done,  to  the  iniquity  and  miseries  of  slavery.  He  saw 
the  institution,  it  is  true,  under  its  most  lenient  form  ; 
for  the  Randolphs  were  as  humane  as  it  is  possible  to 
be  in  relations  so  intrinsically  unjust,  and  sought  to 
reconcile  their  slaves  to  their  situation,  and  to  gain 
their  attachment,  by  gentleness  and  kind  attentions. 
Indeed,  to  judge  from  passages  in  Mrs.  Randolph's 
letters  to  Mr.  Channing  after  his  return  from  Virginia, 
she  was,  and  perhaps  her  husband  also,  disgusted  with 
the  whole  system;  for  she  writes,  in  relation  to  the 
threatened  insurrection  in  Richmond,  "  Such  is  our 
boasted  land  of  freedom," — Mr.  Randolph  adding, 
"  This  is  a  small  tornado  of  liberty."  In  a  later  letter 
she  thus  still  more  strongly  expresses  herself:  "  I  feel 
a  great  desire  to  quit  the  land  of  slavery  altogether." 
It  is  very  probable,  then,  that  in  the  family  where  he 
resided  the  evils  of  this  lowest  form  of  society  were 
fully  exposed  and  discussed*.  "I  heard  it  freely 
spoken  of  with  abhorrence,"  he  says.  And  wherever 
he  went,  language  of  similar  hostility  may  well  have 

»  Works,  Vol.  II.,  p.  231. 


84  RICHMOND. 

reached  him ;  for  the  words  of  Washington  and  of  Jeffer- 
son were  sounding  in  the  ears  of  their  fellow- citizens, 
and  men  had  not  then  become  insensible  to  the  absurd 
and  hypocritical  position  in  which  the  United  States 
were  presented  to  the  world, — as  a  nation  professing 
freedom  and  practising  oppression,  asserting  equality 
and  enforcing  castes,  declaring  itself  in  advance  of  the 
whole  civilized  world  by  a  recognition  of  inalienable 
human  rights,  and  yet  perpetuating  the  worn-out  usages 
of  feudalism.  Not  then,  either,  had  speculators  dis- 
covered how  to  postpone  the  destructive  effects  of  slave 
cultivation,  by  breeding  children,  like  cattle,  for  the 
south-west  market,  and  replenishing  exhausted  coffers 
by  the  profits  of  the  "  vigintial  crop."  Virginia  had 
already,  to  be  sure,  voted  for  the  abolition  of  the  fo- 
reign slave-trade,  with  the  economical  prospect  of  be- 
coming the  American  Guinea-coast,  and  monopolising 
the  gains  of  merchandize  in  men.  But  the  stimulants 
to  this  accursed  traffic,  offered  by  the  acquisition  of 
Louisiana  and  Florida,  by  the  rapid  growth  of  the  cot- 
ton-trade, and  the  invention  of  the  cotton-gin,  were  not 
then  felt.  And  Mr.  Channing  probably  received,  there- 
fore, from  intelligent  slave-holders,  confessions  of  their 
dissatisfaction  with  this  system  of  concentrated  inhu- 
manity. He  came,  also,  personally  in  contact  with 
its  workings,  by  sometimes  assuming  the  duty  of  dis- 
tributing the  weekly  rations,  by  visiting  in  the  slave- 
huts,  and  conversing  with  the  domestics  in  the  house- 
hold ;  and  he  was  once  'left  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Randolph, 
during  a  short  absence,  in  entire  charge  of  these  beings, 
made  helpless  by  constraint  and  dependence.  The  re- 
sult of  this  experience  was,  that  he  received  an  in- 
delible impression  of  the  wretchedness  which  such 


FEDERALISM.  »0 

wrongs  must  everywhere  and  for  ever  bring  alike  on 
slave  and  master.  The  following  letter  fully  expresses 
the  state  of  his  feelings : — 

"  There  is  one  object  here  which  always  depresses  me. 
It  is  slavery.  This  alone  would  prevent  me  from  ever 
settling  in  Virginia.  Language  cannot  express  my  detesta- 
tion of  it.  Master  and  slave  !  Nature  never  made  such  a 
distinction,  or  established  such  a  relation.  Man,  when 
forced  to  substitute  the  will  of  another  for  his  own,  ceases 
to  be  a  moral  agent ;  his  title  to  the  name  of  man  is  ex- 
tinguished, he  becomes  a  mere  machine  in  the  hands  of  his 
oppressor.  No  empire  is  so  valuable  as  the  empire  of  one's 
self.  No  right  is  so  inseparable  from  humanity,  and  so 
necessary  to  the  improvement  of  our  species,  as  the  right 
of  exerting  the  powers  which  nature  has  given  us  in  the 
pursuit  of  any  and  of  every  good  which  we  can  obtain  with- 
out doing  injury  to  others.  Should  you  desire  it,  I  will 
give  you  some  idea  of  the  situation  and  character  of  the 
negroes  in  Virginia.  It  is  a  subject  so  degrading  to  hu- 
manity, that  I  cannot  dwell  on  it  with  pleasure.  I  should 
be  obliged  to  show  you  every  vice,  heightened  by  every 
meanness  and  added  to  every  misery.  The  influence  of 
slavery  on  the  whites  is  almost  as  fatal  as  on  the  blacks 
themselves." 

The  strong  Federal  predilections  which  Mr.  Channing 
brought  with  him  from  the  North,  and  the  earnest  dis- 
cussions which  he  found  prevailing  in  Virginia,  gave  a 
deepened  interest  to  his  intercourse  with  leading  men, 
and  doubtless  exerted  an  influence  to  call  his  powers 
into  their  fullest  action.  In  Newport,  and  at  college, 
he  had  been  accustomed  to  hear  only  one  side  of  the 
important  questions  which  then  stirred  the  country, 
presented ;  but  now  he  found  himself  confronted  with 


86  RICHMOND. 

Democrats,  and  was  forced  to  meet  their  arguments  face 
to  face.     To  a  friend  he  writes : — 

"  I  am  very  desirous  to  see  the  debates  in  Congress.  I 
find  this  advantage  from  being  in  Virginia,  that  I  must 
adopt  no  opinion  on  the  measures  of  government  without 
having  grounds  for  it." 

This  was  the  period,  it  will  be  rememhered,  when  the 
Federalists  were  still  dreading  the  influence  of  French 
Jacobinism,  and  when  the  Democrats  saw  in  their  oppo- 
nents the  tools  of  English  intrigue,  when  the  black 
cockade  and  the  tricolour  were  worn  as  badges  by  the 
respective  parties,  and  when  the  most  bitter  suspicion 
and  calumny  everywhere  prevailed.  It  was  well  for  a 
high-spirited  and  honourable  young  man  to  be  brought 
thus  into  close  contact  with  persons  of  an  opposite 
creed  from  that  in  which  he  had  been  reared.  It  dis- 
armed his  prejudices,  enlarged  his  views  of  public 
affairs,  substituted  candour  for  bigotry,  and  taught  him 
to  consult  reason  more  than  his  passions.  Indeed,  so 
far  did  he  learn  to  be  just  in  stating  the  arguments  of 
his  adversaries  that  his  brother  writes  to  him  reproach- 
fully, as  if  he  had  become  a  traitor.  But  his  liberality 
was  only  the  first  development  of  that  many-sidedness 
and  cautious  judgment  which  were  so  characteristic  of 
his  manhood.  He  was  still  a  devoted  Federalist,  as 
appears  from  the  following  letters  to  his  friend  Shaw, 
which  are  of  value  at  once  as  an  illustration  of  the 
temper  of  the  times,  and  as  a  proof  of  his  mental 
energy. 

"  My  political  opinions  have  varied  a  little  since  I  saw 
you ;  but  it  would  be  unfair  to  charge  them  to  the  Jacobinic 
atmosphere  of  Virginia.  I  trust  that  I  am  guided  by  sober 


THE    FRENCH    REPUBLIC.  87 

reflection.  I  view  the  world  as  a  wide  field  of  action, 
designed  by  its  Framer  to  perfect  the  human  character. 
Political  institutions  are  valuable  only  as  they  improve  and 
morally  elevate  human  nature.  Wealth  and  power  are  sub- 
ordinate considerations,  and  are  far  from  constituting  the 
real  greatness  of  a  state.  I  blush  for  mankind,  when  I  see 
interest  the  only  tie  which  binds  them  to  their  country, 
when  I  see  the  social  compact  improved  for  no  purpose  but 
the  accumulation  of  riches,  and  the  prosperity  of  a  nation 
decided  by  the  successful  avarice  of  its  members.  I  wish 
to  see  patriotism  exalted  into  a  moral  principle,  not  a 
branch  of  avarice.  I  wish  to  see  governments  established 
and  administered  with  the  view  of  enlightening  the  mind 
and  dignifying  the  heart. 

"  I  have  premised  these  observations,  that  you  may  be 
prepared  for  some  remarks  in  the  following  pages  which 
might  otherwise  surprise  you.  You  wish  to  know  what  I 
think  of  France.  I  think  her  cause  desperate  indeed. 
The  republic  has  not  many  months  to  live.  Enthusiasm 
and  numbers  have  hitherto  crowned  her  with  success,  but 
enthusiasm  and  numbers  have  failed  her.  '  Her  soldiers 
no  longer  burn  with  the  ardour  of  freemen,  and  their  ranks 
are  thinned  by  the  sword.'  Her  citizens  are  discontented, 
her  conquered  provinces  are  rising  in  arms  against  her,  and 
government  finds  no  resources  but  in  fleecing  to  the  last 
farthing  the  miserable  subjects  whom  former  rapacity  had 
reduced  to  poverty.  The  republic  is  split  into  parties,  and 
her  naval  defeats  have  leagued  all  Europe  against  her. 
This  I  collect  from  newspapers.  Now  I  cannot  conceive 
how  a  government,  founded  on  corruption,  unsupported  by 
the  attachment  of  its  subjects,  unable  to  pay  its  armies, 
shaken  by  internal  convulsions,  surrounded  by  rebellious 
allies,  and  attacked,  as  France  soon  must  be,  by  the  united 
forces  of  Europe,  can  maintain  its  ground  and  withstand 
such  formidable  and  consolidated  opposition.  If  my  in- 


88  RICHMOND 

formation  is  correct,  I  cannot  but  think  that  the  great  na- 
tion is  in  a  more  critical  situation  than  ever ;  and  this  idea 
has  led  me  to  suppose,  in  spite  of  the  Secretary's  report, 
that  she  was  sincere  in  her  pacific  professions  to  Mr.  Gerry. 
"  Do  not  misunderstand  me,  Shaw.  I  do  not  say  that 
France  has  given  up  her  views  on  this  country ;  I  do  not 
say  that  she  is  less  active  in  her  intrigues.  I  know  better. 
What  I  mean  is  this, — that  France  rested  her  hopes  of 
success  on  the  party  she  had  formed  in  our  own  bosom, 
that  she  never  calculated  upon  that  spirit  which  burst  forth 
on  the  publication  of  the  despatches,  that  her  critical  situ- 
ation rendered  a  war  with  us  impolitic,  and  that  it  was  of 
course  her  interest  to  heal  the  breach  with  us,  and  wait  for 
a  more  favourable  opportunity  to  accomplish  her  designs. 
Mr.  Pickering  tells  us,  that  France  wished  to  delude  us  by 
the  semblance  of  a  negotiation,  and  palsy  our  exertions. 
No  doubt  she  wished  us  to  repose  in  the  lap  of  confidence, 
till,  having  '  sharked  up  the  fry  of  Europe,'  she  should 
have  leisure  to  devour  us  also.  But  how,  in  fact,  was  this 
to  be  done  ?  She  had  evidently  been  too  sudden  in  claim- 
ing tribute  from  America;  she  saw,  that,  in  spite  of  her 
opiates,  the  eagle's  eye  was  vigilant,  and  '  the  national 
pulse  beat  high  for  war ;  '  she  saw  unexpected  energies  of 
patriotism  bursting  forth,  and  measures  of  defence  adopted, 
notwithstanding  her  tampering  with  our  envoy.  She  had 
no  navy  to  force  us  to  compliance  ;  and  thus  situated,  I  ask 
you,  what  was  she  to  do  ?  Was  it  not  her  interest  to  quiet 
our  jealousies  by  forming  a  treaty  with  us,  and  delay  to 
another  and  more  promising  period  her  schemes  of  bond- 
age ?  Was  not  this  the  way  to  enable  her  infernal  agents 
to  work  more  securely  against  us,  and  poison  the  public 
mind  with  more  success  ?  These  arguments  appear  to  me 
of  considerable  weight ;  and  though  Mr.  Gerry  seems  to 
be  no  Solomon  in  his  correspondence,  I  am  disposed  on 
this  subject  to  subscribe  to  his  opinion. 


STANDING    ARMY.  89 

"  From  considering  France,  I  am  naturally  led  to  make 
some  observations  on  the  defensive  steps  which  have  been 
taken,  and  which,  it  is  said,  will  be  taken,  by  our  govern- 
ment. You  may  call  me  Jacobin,  if  you  please,  but  I  am 
not  for  enlarging  our  standing  army.  I  wish  there  was 
nothing  of  the  kind.  It  is  the  engine  which  Eas  beaten 
down  the  walls  of  liberty  in  all  ages ;  and  though  I  an- 
ticipate no  dangers  from  the  present  one,  still  it  is  a  pre- 
cedent which  may  be  fatally  abused. 

"  I  am  opposed  to  standing  armies  on  account  of  their 
moral  effects.  The  activity  of  war  leaves  the  soldier  little 
time  to  comipt  himself.  But  an  army  in  time  of  peace  is 
the  hotbed  of  vice.  Common  soldiers  are  mostly  taken 
from  the  dregs  of  society.  Every  farthing  of  their  pay  is 
spent  in  drinking.  Example  hurries  along  the  honest  and 
virtuous.  Idleness  vitiates  them.  They  communicate  their 
crimes  to  the  neighbourhood  in  which  they  are  quartered ; 
and  I  do  not  think  that  Mr.  Giles  was  too  severe,  when  he 
said,  that,  '  for  five  dollars'  worth  of  whiskey,  they  would 
every  man  of  them  sacrifice  their  country  and  sell  its 
liberties.'  A  soldier  by  profession  is  too  apt  to  forget  that 
he  is  a  citizen.  Subject  to  the  absolute  command  of  his 
superior  officer,  he  loses  the  dignity  of  a  freeman,  and  looks 
with  contempt  on  subordination  to  civil  authority.  I  have 
no  time  to  write  further.  I  meant  to  have  said  something 
on  the  alliance  with  England,  which  Paine  is  talking  about ; 
but  I  must  defer  it.  Write  soon ;  correct  me,  if  I  am 
wrong.  You  will  find  that  my  political  principles  and 
ideas  of  government  are  branches  of  my  moral  system. 
You  do  not  know  what  an  enthusiast  I  have  grown  for 
liberty."* 

"  I  feel  vexed  almost  to  madness,  when  I  see  the  powers 

*  This  letter  was  written  a  year  subsequent  to  the  one  which  follows, 
but  is  placed  before  it,  as  it  best  introduces  his  political  sentiments. 


90  RICHMOND. 

of  Europe  sitting  so  quietly  till  the  chains  are  riveted  on 
them.  I  expected  ere  this  to  have  seen  every  nation,  from 
the  Mediterranean  to  the  Baltic,  in  arms  against  this  scourge 
of  society.  But,  instead  of  that,  the  idle  controversies  of 
Rastadt  are  protracted,  while  Naples  is  given  up  to  pillage. 

and  France  is  gaining  the  command  of  the  Rhine 

I  think  that  the  great  nation  has  nothing  to  fear  now  but 
from  the  distressed  state  of  her  finances,  and  I  suppose  the 
plunder  of  Naples  will  fill  her  coffers  for  the  present.  The 
moment  for  action  has  been  lost.  Switzerland,  Belgium, 
and  Holland  discovered  the  symptoms  of  rebellion ; — then 
was  the  time  to  strike  a  blow. 

"  War,  in  its  mildest  forms,  is  horrible.  As  waged  by 
the  Russians  [alluding  to  Suwarrow],  it  is  the  heaviest  curse 
which  can  fall  to  the  lot  of  man.  If  rivers  of  blood  have 
already  been  shed,  we  must  now  expect  oceans.  God  of 
peace  !  how  long  wilt  thou  leave  thy  children  a  prey  to  all 
the  horrors  of  war  ?  We  have  read  so  long  of  battles,  that 
they  have  become  familiar  to  us.  We  hear  of  the  slaughter 
of  thousands  and  ten  thousands  with  as  little  emotion  as  if 
we  had  been  told  that  so  many  flies  had  been  swept  away 
in  a  storm.  But  is  war  on  this  account  less  calamitous  ? 
Do  you  remember  the  picture  of  Horror  which  Southey 
gives  us  in  a  note  to  one  of  his  odes  ?  I  shuddered  at  it. 
I  saw  the  milk  frozen  on  the  breast  of  the  dead  mother. 
I  saw  the  babe  hanging  to  her  cold  bosom.  I  am  indeed 
sick  of  war;  my  prayer  to  God  is,  '  Thy  kingdom  come,' 
a  kingdom  which  the  Prince  of  Peace  will  govern. 

"  What  need  for  this  hurry  about  a  treaty  with  France  ? 
A  few  months  may  make  our  way  plain  before  us.  Will 
you  say  that  a  refusal  to  meet  the  offers  of  France  will 
furnish  the  Jacobins  with  arms  against  the  administration  ? 
Shaw,  if  this  hellish  Cerberus,  Jacobinism,  could  be  soothed 


JACOBINISM.  91 

by  throwing  it  a  sop  of  honey,  I  would  willingly  consent  to 
it.  But,  believe  me,  you  must  show  it  the  golden  branch, 
too,  before  you  can  stop  its  barkings.  While  John  Adams 
is  president,  they  know  that  the  '  loaves  and  fishes '  of 
office  will  not  fall  to  their  lot.  Hence  they  will  growl ; 
and  hinder  them,  if  you  can.  It  is  of  little  consequence 
whether  the  government  is  administered  this  way  or  that. 
Jacobins  will  find  fault.  Besides,  if  the  president  can 
really  wish  to  silence  them,  he  ought  to  have  sent  the  en- 
voys long  ago.  Whence  this  tedious  delay?  Should  he 
send  them  now,  the  Jacobins  will  continue  to  rail  at  him 
for  not  sending  them  sooner.  I  have  thus  offered  a  few 
reflections  on  the  much  agitated  subject  of  ottr  envoy. 
Answer  me  soon,  and  show  me  my  error,  if  I  have  em- 
braced one. 

"  If  I  mistake  not,  the  present  period  is  the  most  event- 
ful and  important  which  has  offered  itself  to  our  view  during 
the  whole  revolution  of  France.  In  Europe,  the  fate  of 
nations  is  suspended  in  the  balance;  and  America,  though 
so  remote  from  the  scene  of  blood  and  confusion,  is  most 
deeply  interested  in  the  decision  of  the  contest.  The  eyes 
of  all  parties  are  now  fixed  on  the  president.  What  can  he 
do?  The  Federalists  in  all  parts  of  the  country  seem 
opposed  to  a  renewal  of  negotiation  with  France.  The 
Jacobins  are  more  clamorous  than  ever  about  his  supine- 
ness  in  forming  a  solid  peace  with  that  government 

I  rely  implicity  on  the  firmness  and  independence  of  the 
president.  I  consider  him  as  elevated  above  the  clamours 
of  faction,  and  superior  to  the  narrow  views  of  party.  He 
is  placed  in  so  peculiar  a  situation,  that  no  measure  he  can 
adopt  will  be  popular.  The  only  object  he  can  propose  to 
himself  is  the  good  of  his  country,  and,  I  doubt  not,  he  will 
pursue  it-  with  undeviating  perseverance.  I  have  ever  con- 


92  RICHMOND. 

sidered  it,  and  shall  consider  it,  the  interest  of  America  to 
be  at  peace  with  all  nations.  Let  me  ask  you,  then,  what 
influence  the  proposed  negotiation  will  have  on  maintaining 
the  peace  of  our  country.  This  is  the  most  interesting 
light  in  which  it  can  be  viewed,  and  it  is  my  sincere  opinion 
that  it  will  tend  rather  to  embroil  us  with  the  rest  of 
Europe  than  to  establish  a  lasting  peace  with  France.  .  .  • 
"What  will  the  rest  of  Europe  think  of  us  for  making  a 
treaty  with  France,  when  all  other  civilized  nations  have 
dissolved  their  connections  with  her?  Have  they  not 
openly  expressed  their  resolution  to  overthrow  that  govern- 
ment with  which  we  are  going  to  treat  ?  Think  not,  Shaw, 
that  I  wish  to  see  our  government  overawed  by  foreign 
threats.  I  would  hurl  them  back  Avith  indignation.  I  only 
ask,  whether  it  would  not  be  better  to  sit  still  for  a  while, 
until  affairs  in  Europe  have  assumed  a  more  settled  form. 

"Marshall  stands  at  the  head  of  the  list,  and  I  do  but 
echo  the  multitude,  when  I  tell  you  that  he  is  one  of  the 
greatest  men  in  the  country.  His  '  Answer  to  a  Free- 
holder '  had  a  tendency  to  sink  him  in  the  estimation  of  the 
Northern  people.  But  if  you  lived  in  Virginia,  you  would 
think  just  as  he  did.  I  blush  when  I  think  of  the  Alien 
and  Sedition  laws.  They  have  only  served  to  show  the 
weakness  of  government.  They  were  worse  than  useless. 
Marshall  is  a  great  character.  He  bids  fair  to  be  the  first 
character  in  the  Union. 

"I  wonder  how could  presume  to  touch  the  vener- 
able laurels  of  Washington.  Did  not  Washington  dis- 
tinguish himself  before  and  after  the  time  of  Lord  Howe's 
command  ?  Did  he  not  show  the  most  consummate  skill  in 
improving  the  advantages  which  Lord  Howe  afforded  him  ? 
Witness  Princeton  and  Trenton.  Let  any  man  read 


ALIEN    AND    SEDITION   LAWS.  93 

Washington's  own  letters;  and  if  he  will  afterwards  say 
that  Washington  is  not  a  first-rate  general,  I  will  yield  the 
point. 

"When  I  read 's  justification  of  France  in  breaking 

the  treaty,  I  began  to  think  that  he  had  taken  a  few  lessons 
in  the  school  of  French  philosophy.  I  think  it  worthy  of 
the  president  of  the  Directory,  and  I  dare  say  that,  if  he 
would  communicate  it  to  that  honourable  body,  they  would 
decree  him  a  place  with  Condorcet  and  other  'philoso- 

phists'  in  the  Pantheon.  I  wonder  what will  assert 

next.  The  rankest  Jacobin  could  not  have  crowded  more 
offensive  matter  into  the  few  lines  which  constitute  the  ex- 
tract from  his  letter. 

"  I  rejoice  with  you,  my  friend,  at  the  victory  of  Nelson. 
I  hope  the  report  is  equally  true  respecting  the  defeat  of 
Bonaparte's  land  forces.  The  Directory,  in  their  last  com- 
munication, have  carried  him  safe  to  Cairo ;  should  it  be 
true  that  he  has  repelled  all  human  opposition,  I  would 
invoke  old  Nilus  from  the  ooze  of  his  fertilizing  streams, 
and  beseech  him  to  overflow  with  his  swiftest  torrents  the 
land  he  has  long  enriched,  and  sweep  this  prince  of  rob- 
bers from  the  face  of  the  earth.  There  is  one  question 
which  has  arisen  in  my  mind  since  the  late  news  from  the 
Mediterranean,  and  I  think  it  an  important  one.  Ought 
not  a  just  policy  to  be  alarmed  at  the  disproportionate 
greatness  and  power  of  the  British  navy?  There  is  not  at 
present  a  nation  in  Europe  to  dispute  with  her  the  empire 
of  the  seas.  We  are  exulting  at  the  superiority  of  the 
British  by  sea,  as  we  did  a  few  years  ago  at  the  superiority 
of  the  French  by  land.  We  have  bitterly  rued  the  latter. 
Let  us  avoid  the  same  error  with  respect  to  the  former.  I 
wish  France  to  fall,  but  I  do  not  wish  England  to  rise 
on  her  ruins.  We  should  be  careful,  that,  in  destroying 
one  scourge  of  the  world,  we  do  not  give  birth  to 
another. 


94  RICHMOND. 

"  I  am  happy  to  hear  that  the  same  odium  is  everywhere 
attached  to  the  name  of  Jacobin.  This  is  the  case  even 
in  Democratic  Virginia.  A  Jacobin  is  synonymous  with 
a  dishonest,  immoral,  factious,  and  disorganizing  man. 
There  are  many  doubts  here  respecting  Mr.  Marshall's 
election.  I  think  that  he  will  succeed.  Mr.  Marshall  has 
been  much  censured  at  the  Northward  for  his  sentiments 
on  the  Alien  and  Sedition  laws.  I  begin  to  believe  that  he 
is  right.  He  says  that  they  are  not  unconstitutional.  But 
they  have  produced  an  amazing  irritation  in  the  public 
mind.  The  opposition  in  Congress  were  gradually  losing 
their  influence  with  the  people  in  this  part  of  America. 
The  conduct  of  France  was  too  flagrant  to  be  justified,  and 
her  warmest  partisans  were  obliged  to  confess  that  the 
executive  had  pursued  towards  her  a  liberal  and  pacific 
policy.  Public  opinion  was  becoming  rectified.  But  the 
Alien  and  Sedition  laws  gave  new  life  to  the  enemies  of 
government,  and  blew  the  dying  spark  into  a  flame.  You 
no  longer  hear  government  charged  with  ingratitude  to 
France.  This  the  Jacobins  take  care  to  throw  in  the  back- 
ground. They  bring  forward  the  Alien  and  Sedition  laws 
into  the  front  of  the  scene;  and  so  successful  have  they 
been  in  exciting  alarms,  that  there  are  thousands  who  think 
their  liberties  endangered  and  the  constitution  violated. 
You  would  suppose,  from  their  language,  that  they  were  all 
in  chains,  that  they  were  bent  down  to  the  ground  with  the 
load  of  their  oppressions. — that  Congress,  like  the  Demo- 
cratic negro- drivers  of  Virginia,  were  standing  over  them 
with  a  lash  in  their  hands,  and  scourging  them  till  ex- 
hausted nature  was  spending  her  last  breath  in  complaint. 
I  have  no  doubt  but  a  petition  will  be  forwarded  to  Con- 
gress, by  the  legislature  of  this  State,  for  a  repeal  of  these 
odious  Acts. 

"And  now,  I  would  ask,  what  good  effects  have  these 
laws  produced?  Is  the  imprisonment  of  Lyon,  or  the  arrest 


VIRGINIA   LEGISLATURE.  95 

of  three  or  four  printers,  an  object  to  be  placed  in  compe- 
tition with  the  union  of  our  country?  The  Alien  law  never 
has  been,  and  probably  never  will  be,  carried  into  execution. 
The  Sedition  law  has  had  no  effect  where  it  is  most  wanted. 
A  printer  in  this  city  published  seditious  matter  the  very 
day  before  the  Circuit  Court  sat  here,  in  hopes  of  a  prose- 
cution; and  the  friends  of  government  passed  it  by,  on 
account  of  the  irritation  it  would  produce,  and  because  they 
knew  that  such  a  prosecution  would  recommend  him  to  the 
legislature  for  printer  to  the  State.  I  wish  government  to 
possess  energy  as  much  as  any  man ;  but  I  believe  that  it  is 
weakened,  instead  of  being  strengthened,  by  pretending  to 
energy  which  it  cannot  support.  Is  not  the  tendency  of 
this  to  bring  it  into  contempt,  to  render  its  measures  weak 
and  ineffectual?  Is  it  not,  in  fine,  much  better  to  say 
nothing  about  sedition,  when  we  cannot,  or  dare  not,  re- 
press it?  I  consider,  my  friend,  that  a  crisis  is  rapidly 
approaching.  The  question  must  soon  be  decided,  whether 
the  Federal  government  shall  stand  or  fall.  I  understand 
that  one  court  in  this  State  has  already  set  aside  the  Stamp 
Act  as  unconstitutional,  and  proceeded  to  business  without 
it.  There  is  no  doubt,  but  that  the  legislature,  which 
meets  in  this  town  next  Tuesday,  \\ill  take  some  steps  for 
the  repeal  of  the  Alien  and  Sedition  laws ;  and  a  gentleman, 
who  read  some  resolves  in  the  Jacobin  Gazette  of  yesterday, 
has  just  informed  me  that  one  county  have  expressed  their 
determination  of  standing  by  the  legislature,  in  whatever 
measures  they  may  adopt  upon  this  occasion. 

"  For  my  part,  I  care  not  how  soon  the  contest  is  de- 
cided. Should  the  worst  happen,  should  my  native  country 
be  prostrated,  by  the  arts  and  influence  of  demagogues,  at 
the  feet  of  France,  I  will  curse  and  quit  it.  I  never  will 
breathe  the  same  air  with  those  who  are  tainted  with  the 
foul  impurities  of  French  principles.  I  never  will  dwell 
in  the  country  where  I  was  born  free,  when  it  is  doomed 


96  RICHMOND. 

to  groan  under  a  foreign  yoke.  With  tears  in  my  eyes,  I 
will  bid  farewell  to  the  roof  which  sheltered  my  infancy, 
and  to  the  green  graves  of  my  fathers,  and  take  up  my 
abode  in  the  foreign  land  from  which  I  boast  of  my  de- 
scent, and  which  my  honest  ancestors  left  in  hopes  of  find- 
ing climes  more  favourable  to  liberty  and  to  the  rights  of 
man." 

Mr.  Channing's  interest  in  public  affairs,  knowledge 
of  national  policy,  and  observation  of  men,  were  yet 
more  enlarged,  while  his  powers  of  eloquence  received  a 
stimulant,  from  attending  the  debates  of  the  Virginia 
legislature,  which  held  its  sessions  in  the  capitol  at 
Eichmond.  He  writes, — "  I  have  listened  to  these 
speeches  with  a  great  deal  of  pleasure.  The  Virginians 
are  the  best  orators  I  have  ever  heard." 

But  zeal  in  the  political  movements  of  the  day,  and 
social  enjoyments,  occupied  only  the  intervals  of  time. 
His  energies  were  mainly  turned  to  the  duties  of  his 
school  and  to  private  studies.  He  had  under  his 
charge  twelve  boys,  to  whose  care  most  of  the  hours  of 
the  day  were  devoted.  In  after  years,  he  thought 
himself  at  this  time  too  strict  a  disciplinarian.  But 
he  may  have  found  a  display  of  decision  more  neces- 
sary from  his  youth  and  smallness  of  size,  of  which  an 
amusing  illustration  is  given  in  the  following  anecdote, 
related  by  himself.  An  old  coloured  woman  came  into 
the  school  to  complain  of  some  of  the  boys  who  had 
damaged  her  garden,  broken  her  fence,  and  torn  up  her 
flowers,  making  loud  complaint,  and  wanting  to  see 
the  master.  When  he  presented  himself,  she  surveyed 
him  for  a  moment,  and  said, — "  You  de  massa  ?  You 
little  ting,  you  can't  lick  'em;  dey  put  you  out  de 
window."  He  assured  her,  however,  that  the  boys 


POVERTY.  97 

should  be  corrected,  and  that  she  should  be  satisfied 
for  her  loss,  remarking, — "Poor  mamma!  she  knew  of 
no  way  of  discipline  but  the  lash." 

Absorbed  in  the  duty  of  teaching  during  the  day, 
and  living  much  apart  from  the  family,  Mr.  Channing 
was  prompted  by  his  wish  for  quick  advancement  to 
pass  most  of  the  night  in  study.  He  usually  remained 
at  his  desk  till  two  or  three  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
and  often  saw  the  day  break  before  retiring  to  rest.  He 
had  also  gained  from  the  Stoics,  and  from  his  own 
pure  standard  of  virtue,  ascetic  desires  of  curbing  the 
animal  nature,  and  of  hardening  himself  for  difficult 
duties.  For  the  end  of  overcoming  effeminacy,  he  ac- 
customed himself  to  sleep  on  the  bare  floor,  and  would 
spring  up  at  any  hour  of  waking  to  walk  about  in  the 
cold.  With  the  same  view,  he  made  experiments  in 
diet,  and  was  rigidly  abstemious,  while  he  neglected 
exercise  from  too  close  application.  The  result  of 
these  night-studies,  and  of  his  general  ignorance  of  the 
natural  laws,  was,  that  an  originally  fine  constitution 
was  broken,  and  seeds  of  disease  were  planted  in  his 
system,  which  years  of  scrupulous  regard  to  health 
could  never  root  out. 

To  these  sources  of  illness  was  added  another,  which, 
as  it  illustrates  his  characteristic  disinterestedness,  may 
deserve  a  passing  notice.  When  he  left  home,  his 
provident  mother  had  given  him  a  bill  of  credit  on  a 
house  in  Richmond,  with  the  confident  expectation 
that  he  would  use  it  to  refurnish  his  wardrobe.  Money, 
however,  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  take  from  his 
mother's  large  family,  and  never  drew  upon  his  friends. 
Depression  of  spirits  and  absorption  of  mind  made 
him  careless  also  of  external  appearances,  and  he 

VOL.  i.  t  F 


98  RICHMOND. 

preferred  to  expend  his  salary  in  purchasing  books. 
The  consequence  was,  that  his  clothing  became  much 
•worn,  and  he  exposed  himself  during  the  whole  winter 
without  an  overcoat,  except  when  sometimes  he  bor- 
rowed one  to  attend  church.  These  necessities  came 
home  to  him,  when,  upon  Christmas- day,  he  found 
himself  too  meanly  clad  to  join  the  gay  party  assembled 
at  Mr.  Randolph's,  and,  sitting  alone  in  his  study, 
thought  of  his  own  family  circle,  then  gathered,  far 
away,  around  his  mother's  table.  He  thus  alludes, 
years  afterwards,  to  his  home- sickness: — 

"  I  am  not  sorry  that  you  have  had  a  touch  of  this  dis- 
ease. I  know  it  well.  I  remember  how  my  throat  seemed 
full,  and  food  was  tasteless,  and  the  solitude  which  I  fled 
to  was  utter  loneliness.  It  is  worse  than  sea-sickness,  but 
it  comes  from  the  heart ;  it  is  a  tribute  to  the  friends  you 
have  left." 

This  slight  experience  of  poverty,  too,  sank  deep 
into  his  memory,  and  gave  him  through  life  most 
tender  compassion  for  the  needy. 

His  general  state  and  habits  he  thus  describes : — 

"  MY  DEAR  FELLOW, — Did  you  but  know  the  ex- 
quisite happiness  which  the  handwriting  of  a  friend  affords 
me,  now  that  I  am  so  far  from  home,  without  one  com- 
panion of  my  youth  to  cheer  my  social,  or  share  my 
gloomy  hours,  I  am  sure  you  would  snatch  a  few  moments 
from  sleep,  or  the  round  of  amusements,  to  scribble  me  a 
letter. 

"  You  seem  anxious  to  know  how  I  am  situated.  Very 
happily,  I  assure  you ;  as  happily  as  I  could  be  at  such  a 
distance  from  Newport.  I  finish  school  before  dinner,  and 
all  the  rest  of  the  day  I  spend  as  I  choose.  I  am  treated 


LITERARY   PURSUITS.  99 

with  every  attention  I  can  desire.  I  have  a  retired  room 
for  my  study,  a  lonely  plain  to  walk  in,  and  you  know, 
Shaw,  that  under  these  circumstances  I  cannot  be  miser- 
able. I  often  look  towards  the  North  with  a  sigh,  and 
think  of  the  scenes  I  have  left  behind  me.  But  I  remem- 
ber that  cruel  necessity  has  driven  me  from  home,  and 
wipe  away  the  tear  which  the  painful  recollection  had 
wrung  from  my  eyes.  Do  not  misunderstand  me,  Shaw. 
When  I  say  cruel  necessity,  I  do  not  mean  poverty.  No ! 
It  is  a  necessity  which  my  feelings  have  imposed  upon  me, 
— a  necessity  arising  from  a  change  in  my  sentiments,  and 
a  peculiarity  of  character  which  I  cannot  explain  to  you. 
It  is  now  that  I  experience  the  benefit  of  habits  which  I 
formed  in  early  life.  O  Heaven  !  what  a  wretch  should  I 
be,  how  wearisome  would  be  existence,  had  I  not  learned 
to  depend  on  myself  for  enjoyment!  Society  becomes 
more  and  more  insipid.  I  am  tired  of  the  fashionable 
nonsense  which  dins  my  ear  in  every  circle,  and  I  am 
driven  to  my  book  and  pen  for  relief  and  pleasure.  With 
my  book  and  pen  in  my  hand,  I  am  always  happy.  Nature 
or  education  has  given  this  bent  to  my  mind,  and  I  esteem 
it  as  the  richest  blessing  Heaven  ever  sent  me.  I  am  in- 
dependent of  the  world.  Above  all  things,  cultivate  this 
independence.  You  know  it  is  my  idol,  and  I  know  of  no 
virtue  more  necessary  to  a  politician." 

The  studies  to  which  he  was  assiduously  devoting 
himself  were  partly  of  a  general  character,  as  appears 
from  the  following  letters  to  his  friend  Shaw,  describing 
his  literary  pursuits. 

"  I  have  not  yet  received  an  answer  to  my  last  two 
letters.  But  I  abhor  ceremony ;  and  when  I  have  an  hour's 
leisure  and  a  full  heart,  I  cannot  enjoy  myself  better  than 
in  communicating  my  sentiments  and  feelings  to  a  friend. 

F  2 


100  RICHMOND. 

I  am  now  totally  immersed  in  literature.  I  have  settled 
a  course  of  reading  for  three  years,  and  I  hope  at  the  end 
of  that  time  to  have  knowledge  enough  to  enter  on  the 
world.  I  intend  to  pursue  a  course  of  modern  history  im- 
mediately. I  have  purchased  a  set  of  Russell,  and  shall 
take  Belsham's  George  the  Third  for  a  continuation.  I 
shall  gain  more  particular  knowledge  of  the  distinguished 
reigns  by  the  help  of  biographies.  I  have  understood  that 
Harte's  Gustavus  is  a  good  work.  What  do  you  know  of 
it  ?  If  it  is  worth  reading,  and  not  too  voluminous,  could 
you  forward  it  to  me?  What  do  you  think  of  Gillies' 
Frederick?  I  can  procure  it  here,  if  you  recommend  it. 
I  have  already  Voltaire's  Louis  the  Fourteenth.  Would 
you  advise  Sully 's  Memoirs  in  this  course?  I  shall 
begin  Russell  at  Henry  the  Seventh  of  England.  I  have 
read  all  of  Hume  but  the  last  volume.  He  does  not  throw 
light  enough  on  the  rest  of  Europe.  Tell  me  what  books 
must  be  added,  and  what  retrenched.  I  wish  I  could  get 
a  good  Roman  and  a  good  Grecian  history.  I  know  of 
none  which  is  political  enough,  and  which  attends  to  the 
private  life  of  those  nations.  Ferguson  will  carry  me  to 
the  termination  of  the  Roman  Republic.  But  must  I  wade 
through  Gibbon  to  get  acquainted  with  the  Empire? 
Rather  than  do  this,  I  will  wait  till  I  begin  a  course  of 
ecclesiastical  history.  What  do  you  know  of  Mitford's 
Greece?  I  shall  now  read  history  very  differently  from 
what  I  used  to  do.  I  shall  read  it  as  a  politician  and  a 
moralist.  I  shall  found  my  opinions  of  government  on 
what  I  see  to  be  the  effects  of  different  systems,  and  not 
on  idle  speculation.  I  study  harder  than  ever.  I  have 
just  been  reading  Priestley's  Lectures,  and  have  derived 
considerable  advantage  from  them.  I  admire,  above  all, 
Ferguson's  Civil  Society.  You  lost  a  treasure,  Shaw,  when 
you  sold  it  to  me.  Do  you  know  any  thing  of  Ferguson's 


LITERARY   PURSUITS.  101 

other  political  work?  I  forget  the  title  of  it.  What 
merit  has  Robertson's  North  America?  Is  he,  like  the 
sun,  more  majestic  in  his  setting  ?  " 

Of  Kobertson's  Charles  the  Fifth,  also,  which  he  at 
this  period  read,  he  once  remarked : — 

"  That  history  first  gave  me  a  right  direction  in  historical 
matters.  The  introduction  is  superficial ;  but  to  me,  in  my 
ignorance,  it  was  full  of  light,  and  taught  the  value  of  broad 
vieivs  of  human  affairs ;  it  led  me  to  look  for  the  steady 
causes  and  tendencies  at  work  among  nations.  On  the 
whole,  Robertson  gives  a  pretty  fair  view  of  the  Reforma- 
tion,— that  mighty  event, — though,  indeed,  he  was  a  Pro- 
testant, and  no  Protestant  can  be  wholly  impartial." 

Speaking  of 's  poem,  he  says : — 

"  In  ancient  times,  it  was  a  common  opinion,  that  Par- 
nassus was  hard  to  climb,  and  its  top  almost  inaccessible. 
But  in  modern  times,  we  seem  to  have  made  a  beaten  cart- 
way  over  it,  and  where  is  the  man  who  cannot  travel  it 
without  difficulty  or  danger  ?  Helicon  was  once  represented 
as  a  scanty  stream,  and  happy  was  he  who  could  get  a 
draught  of  it.  But  now  it  has  become  so  bold  a  river, 
that  every  plough-boy  in  the  field  of  science  can  water  his 
horses  at  it.  Inspiration  descends  in  the  form  of  a  thick 
fog,  and  the  beclouded  fancy  which  paints  a  monster,  while 
it  aims  at  sketching  nature,  is  admired  for  the  boldness  and 
wildness  of  its  thoughts 

"  His  metaphors,  generally  speaking,  are  too  far-fetched. 
He  shows  more  of  the  scholar  than  the  man,  and  none  but 
a  scholar  can  understand  his  productions.  He  pleases  the 
refined  taste  of  the  critic,  but  cannot  strike  the  master- 
springs  of  the  human  heart His  poetry  is  loaded 

with  cumbrous  epithets.  He  dazzles  us  with  his  splendour, 
but  he  does  not  warm  us  with  the  blaze  of  his  genius.  Like 


102  RICHMOND. 

a  glittering  sword  brandished  in  a  sunbeam,  he  flashes  light 
into  your  eyes,  without  communicating  any  of  the  heat  of 
that  luminary.  I  love  an  author  who  converges  the  rays 
of  thought  till  they  burn  in  a  focus. 

"  The  ancients  heaped  flowers  on  the  dead,  but  gave  a 
simple  garland  of  oak  to  the  living  hero.  I  admire  their 
taste.  Let  the  servile  imitator  deck  his  lifeless  page  with 
a  profusion  of  epithets.  They  keep  the  corpse  out  of 
sight.  But  genius  can  give  the  spark  of  life,  the  bloom 
of  health,  the  lightning  eye,  the  majesty  of  form,  and  the 
glow  of  thought,  to  her  productions.  What  need,  then,  of 
ornament? 

"  I  have  lately  read  Mrs.  Wolstonecraft's  posthumous 
works.  Her  letters,  toward  the  end  of  the  first  volume,  are 
the  best  I  ever  read.  They  are  superior  to  Sterne's.  I 
consider  that  woman  as  the  greatest  of  the  age.  Her 
'  Rights  of  Woman '  is  a  masculine  performance,  and  ought 
to  be  studied  by  the  sex.  Can  you  call  her  a  prostitute  ? 
She  indeed  formed  a  guilty  connection.  But  even  then  she 
acted  upon  principle 

"  It  seems  that  you  cannot  love  Mrs.  Wolstonecraft.  I 
do  not  mean  to  fight  with  you  about  her.  Her  principles 
respecting  marriage  would  prove  fatal  to  society,  if  they 
were  reduced  to  practice.  These  I  cannot  recommend. 
But  on  other  subjects  her  sentiments  are  noble,  generous, 
and  sublime.  She  possessed  a  masculine  mind,  but  in  her 
letters  you  may  discover  a  heart  as  soft  and  feeling  as  was 
ever  placed  in  the  breast  of  a  woman.  I  only  know  her 
by  her  writings 

"  I  have  been  reading  Rousseau's  Eloise.  What  a 
writer !  Rousseau  is  the  only  French  author  I  have  ever 
read,  who  knows  the  way  to  the  heart. 

"  I  would  also  recommend  to  you  a  novel,  Caleb  Wil- 
liams, by  Godwin.  Shaw,  what  a  melancholy  reflection  is 
it  that  the  writers  I  have  now  mentioned  were  all  deists ! 


LOVE    OF   NATURE.  103 

Blest  with  the  powers  of  intellect  and  fancy,  they  have 
not  been  able  to  discern  the  traces  of  a  God  in  his  Holy 
Scriptures,  and  have  trodden  under  foot  the  only  treasure 
which  deserved  pursuit.  The  pride  of  human  nature  has 
been  the  source  of  their  error.  They  could  not  '  be- 
come as  little  children.'  They  could  not  bear  the  yoke  of 
Christ,  imbibe  the  meek  and  humble  spirit  of  his  religion, 
and  rely  upon  his  merits  for  pardon  and  acceptance  with 
God." 

But  while  earnestly  occupied  in  political  speculations, 
and  in  historical  and  literary  pursuits, — thus  already 
manifesting  the  varied  mental  activity  which  marked 
him  in  mature  life, — other  characteristic  tendencies  ap- 
peared. The  poetic  temperament  that  had  led  him  to 
the  beach  in  Newport,  and  to  the  willow  walk  in  Cam- 
bridge,— thrilling  his  soul  with  the  sense  of  beauty, 
with  yearnings  to  be  free  from  imperfection,  and  visions 
of  good  too  great  for  earth, — was  working  strongly  in 
him  now.  On  the  banks  of  the  James  river,  dotted 
with  islets  of  most  brilliant  emerald,  —  under  the 
shadows  of  deep  groves,  where  century-old  sycamores 
reared  their  tall  white  trunks  like  cathedral  columns, — 
among  arbours  formed  by  the  gnarled  grape-vines  which 
twined  their  heavy  folds  over  trees  crushed  down  by 
their  weight,  where  the  dark  polished  leaves  of  the 
holly  glistened,  and  the  gum  and  the  maple  spread  out 
their  various-tinted  verdure,  and  the  tulip-tree  raised 
its  pyramid  of  orange-green  blossoms  to  the  sun, — he 
passed  hours  and  days  of  delightful  wandering,  lost  in 
soft  dreams  and  rapturous  visions.  In  one  letter,  he 
says : — 

"  I  wish  that  you  had  been  with  me,  Shaw !  Arm  in 
arm,  we  would  have  strolled  over  the  fields,  and  gazed  with 
admiration  on  the  surrounding  scenery.  A  few  traces  of 


104  RICHMOND. 

cultivation  varied  the  prospect,  and  all  besides  was  wild 
and  luxuriant.  Nature  still  triumphed,  still  reposed  on 
her  bed  of  leaves  under  the  shade  of  the  oak  and  pine. 
Our  house  was  delightfully  situated  on  the  top  of  a  little 
hill.  Before  us  spread  a  valley  clothed  with  corn  and  to- 
bacco crops.  Beyond  it  rose  two  mountains.  The  passing 
clouds  rested  on  their  summits,  and  one  continued  forest 
covered  their  sides,  extending  down  to  the  plain  below.  .  .  . 

"  We  would  often  rest  under  the  vine  or  the  peach-tree, 
fill  our  bosoms  with  clusters  of  wild  grapes,  wipe  the  down 
from  the  delicious  fruit,  and  slake  our  thirst  at  the  friendly 
rivulet  which  murmured  by  our  feet.  I  assure  you  I  have 
had  a  charming  time.  I  love  the  country.  As  you  have 
but  little  work  to  do,  you  hardly  know  what  is  the  meaning 
of  the  word  Holiday.  View  me,  pent  up  in  a  school  for 
eight  months,  and  then  let  loose  in  the  fields,  free  as  the 
air  I  breathe,  and  emancipated  from  the  frivolous  punctilios 
and  galling  forms  of  society.  I  snuff  up  the  fresh  breezes ; 
I  throw  myself  on  the  soft  bed  of  grass  which  Nature  has 
formed  for  her  favourites ;  I  feel  every  power  within  me 
renewed  and  invigorated 

"  You  told  me,  some  time  ago,  that  you  had  broken  off 
the  habit  of  musing.  I  wish  I  could  say  the  same.  You 
cannot  conceive  how  much  of  my  time,  especially  at  this 
season,  is  thrown  away  in  pursuing  the  phantoms  of  a  dis- 
ordered imagination.  Musing  wears  away  my  body  and 
my  mind.  I  walk  without  attending  to  the  distance.  Some- 
times joy  gives  me  wings,  or  else,  absorbed  in  melancholy, 
I  drag  one  foot  heavily  after  the  other  for  whole  hours  to- 
gether. I  try  to  read,  but  I  only  repeat  words,  without  re- 
ceiving an  idea  from  them.  Do  give  me  a  recipe  for  curing 
this  disorder." 

Later  in  life,  too,  in  counselling  a  young  friend,  he 
thus  alludes  to  his  own  early  habits : — 

"  Do  any  thing  innocent  rather  than  give  yourself  up  to 


SELF-SCRUTINY.  105 

reverie.  I  can  speak  on  this  point  from  experience.  At 
one  period  of  my  life  I  was  a  dreamer,  castle-builder. 
Visions  of  the  distant  and  future  took  the  place  of  present 
duty  and  activity.  I  spent  hours  in  reverie.  I  suppose  I 
was  seduced  in  part  by  physical  debility,  but  the  body 
suffered  as  much  as  the  mind.  I  found,  too,  that  the 
imagination  threatened  to  inflame  the  passions,  and  that,  if 
I  meant  to  be  virtuous,  I  must  dismiss  my  musings.  The 
conflict  was  a  hard  one.  I  resolved,  prayed,  resisted,  sought 
refuge  in  occupation,  and  at  length  triumphed.  I  beg  you 
to  avail  yourself  of  my  experience. 

"  It  is  true  that  every  soul  has  its  own  warfare  to  go 
through,  but  still  we  may  help  one  another.  At  your  age, 
there  is  often  a  great  and  sudden  development  of  the  sensi- 
bilities. The  imagination  is  stirred  up  by  the  hope  of  a 
vast  and  undefined  good,  by  prospects  of  the  uncertain  and 
boundless  future,  and  plunges  into  reverie.  The  present  is 
too  narrow  for  us.  We  know  not  what  we  want.  Some- 
times a  secret  restlessness  devours  the  young,  a  mysterious 
fever  of  the  spirit.  We  must  not  wonder  at  this.  Our  na- 
ture has  mighty  energies,  and  they  are  given  to  us,  if  I 
may  so  say,  in  a  rude  state,  that  we  may  reduce  them  to 
harmony.  The  young  mind,  when  roused  to  life  and 
power,  is  at  first  very  much  a  chaos.  Some  at  this  critical 
period  abandon  themselves  to  sensual  excesses,  hi  hope  of 
seizing  that  intense  good  which  they  thirst  for.  Some  give 
themselves  up  to  secret  musings,  and  seek  in  unreal  worlds 
what  the  actual  world  cannot  give.  Happy  the  young  man 
who  at  this  moment  seizes  on  some  views,  however  faint, 
of  the  true  and  great  end  of  his  being ;  who  is  conscious, 
amidst  his  wild  thoughts,  that  he  has  within  himself  a 
power  of  forming  himself  to  something  pure,  noble,  divine ; 
who  sympathizes  with  the  generous,  disinterested,  heroic ; 
who  feels  that  he  must  establish  an  empire  over  himself,  or 
be  lost.  *The  idea  of  perfection  is  of  necessity  revealed  to 

F  3 


106  RICHMOND. 

us  at  first  very  imperfectly ;  but  if  we  seize  it  with  faith 
in  the  possibility  of  realizing  it,  of  rising  to  something 
higher  than  we  are,  and  if  faith  give  birth  to  resolution, 
then  our  youth,  with  all  its  tumults  and  vehemence,  is  full 
of  promise." 

And,  again : — 

"  Have  you  been  searching  into  your  own  motives,  affec- 
tions, powers,  secret  processes  ?  This  may  be  most  useful, 
if  we  study  ourselves,  not  from  self-idolatry,  not  under  the 
notion  that  we  deserve  all  our  power  of  thought,  but  that 
we  may  learn  our  common  mysterious  nature,  may  learn 
something  of  all  souls,  may  learn  our  end,  and  may  raise 
our  standard  of  judgment  and  action.  But  perhaps  you 
have  been  employed  with  yourself  in  the  sense  of  medi- 
tating anxiously  and  jealously  on  your  defects,  or  of  fashion- 
ing in  reverie  your  own  future  lot.  These  are  both  bad 
occupations.  I  wasted  a  good  deal  of  my  early  life  in 
reverie,  and  broke  the  habit  only  by  painful  self-conflict. 
I  felt  that  my  powers  were  running  wild,  and  my  religious 
principles  were  infinitely  important  to  me  in  giving  me  the 
victory.  The  best  escape  from  this  habit  is  found  in  inte- 
resting occupation,  of  an  earnest,  absorbing  nature,  and  an 
innocent,  cheering  society.  I  have  suffered,  too,  from  a 
painful  sense  of  defects ;  but,  on  the  whole,  have  been  too 
wise  to  waste  in  idle  lamentations  of  deficiencies  the  energy 
which  should  be  used  in  removing  them." 

And,  finally,  his  romantic  enthusiasm  is  thus  laid 
fully  bare  in  a  confession  to  his  friend  Shaw : — 

"  MY  DEAB  FELLOW, — I  sit  down  to  write  you,  to  dis- 
burden a  full  heart  and  cheer  a  heavy  hour.  It  is  spring 
time,  and  a  universal  languor  has  seized  on  me.  Not  long 
ago,  I  was  an  eagle.  I  had  built  my  nest  among  the  stars, 


SENSIBILITY.  107 

and  I  soared  in  regions  of  unclouded  ether.  But  I  fell 
from  heaven,  and  the  spirit  which  once  animated  me  ha* 
fled.  I  have  lost  every  energy  of  soul,  and  the  only  relic 
of  your  friend  is  a  sickly  imagination,  a  fevered  sensibility. 
I  cannot  study.  I  walk  and  muse  till  I  can  walk  no  longer. 
I  sit  down  with  Goldsmith  or  Rogers  in  my  hand,  and  shed 
tears — at  what  ?  At  fictitious  misery ;  at  tales  of  imagi- 
nary woe. 

"  My  whole  life  has  been  a  struggle  with  my  feelings. 
Last  winter  I  thought  myself  victorious.  But  earth-born 
Antaeus  has  risen  stronger  than  ever.  I  repeat  it,  my  whole 
life  has  been  a  struggle  with  my  feelings.  Ask  those  with 
whom  I  have  lived,  and  they  will  tell  you  that  I  am  a  Stoic. 
I  almost  thought  so  myself.  But  I  only  smothered  a  fire 
which  will  one  day  consume  me.  I  sigh  for  tranquil  happi- 
ness. I  have  long  wished  that  my  days  might  flow  along 
like  a  gentle  stream  which  fertilizes  its  banks  and  reflects 
in  its  clear  surface  the  face  of  heaven.  But  I  can  only  wish 
it.  I  still  continue  sanguine,  ardent,  and  inconstant.  I 
can  remember  the  days  when  I  gloried  in  the  moments  of 
rapture,  when  I  loved  to  shroud  myself  in  the  gloom  of 
melancholy.  You  may  remember  them  too.  But  I  have 
grown  wiser,  as  I  have  grown  older.  I  now  wish  to  do 
good  in  the  world.  '  I  love  a  divine,'  says  the  good  Fene- 
lon,  '  who  preaches  to  save  men's  souls,  and  not  to  show 
himself.'  I  perfectly  agree  with  Fenelon;  and  to  make 
such  a  divine  as  he  loves,  I  must  throw  away  those  ridicu- 
lous ecstasies,  and  form  myself  to  habits  of  piety  and  bene- 
volence. One  of  the  reasons  why  I  dislike  the  rapture 
and  depressions  of  spirit,  which  we  used  to  encourage  at 
college,  is  probably  this, — I  find  none  to  share  them  with 
me. 

"  The  other  day  I  handed  to  a  lady  a  sonnet  of  Southey's, 
which  had  wrung  tears  from  me.  '  It  is  pretty,'  said  she, 
with  a  smile.  '  Pretty ! '  echoed  I,  as  I  looked  at  her ; 


108  RICHMOND. 

'  Pretty  ! '  I  went  home.  As  I  grew  composed,  I  could 
not  help  reflecting  that  the  lady  who  had  made  this  answer 
was  universally  esteemed  for  her  benevolence.  I  knew 
that  she  was  goodness  itself.  But  still  she  wanted  feeling. 
'  And  what  is  feeling  ? '  said  I  to  myself.  I  blushed  when 
I  thought  more  on  the  subject.  I  found  that  the  mind 
was  just  as  passive  in  that  state  which  I  called  'feeling,'  as 
when  it  received  any  impressions  of  sense.  One  con- 
sequence immediately  struck  me,  that  there  was  no  moral 
merit  in  possessing  feeling.  Of  course  there  can  be  no 
crime  in  wanting  it.  '  Well,'  continued  I,  '  I  have  just 
been  treating  with  contempt  a  woman  of  active  benevolence, 
for  not  possessing  what  I  must  own  it  is  no  crime  to  want. 
Is  this  just?  I  then  went  on  to  consider,  whether  there 
were  not  many  persons  who  possessed  this  boasted  feeling, 
but  who  were  still  deficient  in  active  benevolence.  A  thou- 
sand instances  occurred  to  me.  I  found  myself  among  the 
number.  '  It  is  true,'  said  I,  '  that  I  sit  in  my  study  and 
shed  tears  over  human  misery.  I  weep  over  a  novel.  I 
weep  over  a  tale  of  human  woe.  But  do  1  ever  relieve 
the  distressed  ?  Have  I  ever  lightened  the  load  of  afflic- 
tion ? '  My  cheeks  reddened  at  the  question ;  a  cloud  of 
error  burst  from  my  mind.  I  found  that  virtue  did  not 
consist  in  feeling,  but  in  acting  from  a  sense  of  duty." 

Mr.  Channing's  poetic  temperament  was  chiefly  mani- 
fested, however,  in  the  lofty  hopes  which  it  inspired  for 
a  state  of  ideal  virtue  for  individuals  and  humanity, 
for  "  a  more  ample  greatness  and  exact  goodness,  the 
world  being  inferior  to  the  soul."  In  answer  to  one  of 
his  fervent  outpourings  upon  these  themes,  his  friend 
Walter  writes  to  him : — "  I  have  read  your  letter  over 
and  over*  again,  and  should  not  deserve  to  live,  were  I 
not  delighted  with  the  beautiful  enthusiasm  and  bene- 
volent wishes  breathed  in  every  word.  They  are  mo- 


ACTIVE    BENEVOLENCE.  109 

numents  of  your  goodness  and  benevolence  to  me  more 
valuable  than  those  of  brass  and  marble.  But,  my 
dear  Channing,  is  not  your  theory  incompatible  with 
the  experience  of  ages  ?  "  And  in  reply  to  yet  another 
letter,  his  brother  Francis  says: — "You  know  nothing 
of  yourself.  You  talk  of  your  apathy  and  stoicism, 
when  you  are  the  baby  of  your  emotions,  and  dandled 
by  them  without  any  chance  of  being  weaned.  What 
shall  I  expect  ?  Nothing,  certainly,  but  what  is 
amiable  and  humane ;  but  virtue  in  distraction  may  be 
as  idle  and  useless,  though  soaring  and  sublime  as  a 
lunatic."  Friends  on  all  sides,  indeed,  evidently 
thought  him  the  prey  of  fevered  imagination,  and  to 
one  of  their  appeals  to  be  more  calm  and  prudent  he 
thus  replies : — 

"  I  will  throw  together  a  few  observations  on  the  sub- 
ject, in  as  short  a  compass  as  possible,  and  without  the 
least  mixture  of  romance  or  enthusiasm.  1  do  not  mean 
to  challenge  you  into  the  lists  of  argument.  I  do  not  fight 
for  victory.  I  only  wish  to  convince  you  that  I  am  not  so 
wild  in  my  views,  or  so  erroneous  in  my  sentiments,  as 
your  letter  represents  me. 

"  You  begin  with  observing,  that  '  the  will  of  Heaven  to 
man  is  declared  in  the  situation  in  which  he  is  placed,  and 
in  the  circumstances  of  his  life ; '  and  you  afterwards  say, 
that  '  every  one  is  a  Howard  who  like  him  applies  his 
penny  or  his  pound.'  I  cannot  assent  to  this  in  its  full  ex- 
tent. You  evidently  go  upon  the  supposition  that  the  cir- 
cumstances of  our  lives  are  decided  by  Heaven.  I  believe 
they  are  decided  by  ourselves.  Man  is  the  artificer  of  his 
own  fortune.  By  exertion  he  can  enlarge  the  sphere  of 
his  usefulness.  By  activity  he  can  '  multiply  himself.'  It 
is  mind  which  gives  him  an  ascendant  in  society.  It  is 


110  RICHMOND. 

mind  which  extends  his  power  and  ability ;  and  it  depends 
on  himself  to  call  forth  the  energies  of  mind,  to  strengthen 
intellect,  and  form  benevolence  into  a  habit  of  the  soul. 
The  consequence  which  I  deduce  from  these  principles  is 
this, — that  Heaven  has  not,  by  placing  me  in  particular 
circumstances,  assigned  me  a  determinate  sphere  of  use- 
fulness (which  seems  to  be  your  opinion),  but  that  it  is  in 
my  power,  and  of  course  that  it  is  my  duty,  to  widen  the 
circle,  and  '  throw  my  beams  '  still  farther  '  into  the  night 
of  adversity.'  This,  Francis,  is  the  leading  idea  which 
runs  through  my  letter,  and  will  you  call  it  extravagance  ? 
"  It  is  not  enough,  that  you  do  good  in  proportion  to 
your  power,  when  you  have  criminally  neglected  to  enlarge 
this  power.  Will  you  call  the  idle  man  'a  Howard,' who 
indeed  shares  his  loaf  of  bread  with  a  brother  beggar,  but 
who,  by  industry,  might  have  procured  the  means  of  making 
thousands  happy  ?  You  understand  me.  I  may  have 
written  a  thousand  extravagances  to  you  which  I  have  for- 
gotten. But  the  great  and  striking  principles  which  I 
advance  I  have  unfolded  above,  and  they  still  appear  to  my 
sober  reason  as  principles  founded  on  immutable  truth. 
You  tell  me  I  am  only  a  candle.  Perhaps  I  am  less, — a 
farthing  rushlight,  a  glow-worm  on  a  humble  shrub.  You 
say  I  am  discontented  at  not  being  the  sun.  No  such 
thing !  Discontent  is  no  trait  in  my  character.  Give  me 
but  the  consciousness  that  I  have  done  all  I  could  and 
ought  to  do,  and  you  pluck  out  every  thorn  from  my  bosom. 
I  wish  I  could  return  your  compliment,  and  say  you  were  a 
candle.  I  wish  I  could  point  to  a  man  of  my  acquaintance 
and  say  so.  Philosophers  tell  us  that  a  candle  fills  with 
light  a  sphere  of  four  miles'  diameter.  Send  me  the  di- 
mensions of  your  sphere.  Mine  is  fifteen  feet  by  ten.  Is  it 
not  shameful !  Ambition  has  waved  her  flaming  torch 
over  nations,  and  set  the  world  in  a  blaze.  Avarice  has 
penetrated  earth  itself,  and  with  a  steadier  and  more 


COMMUNITY    OF    PROPERTY.  Ill 

stinted  light  illumined  the  sunless  mine.  But  show  me 
humanity,  with  even  one  lonely  candle  in  her  hand,  throw- 
ing a  few  beams  into  the  night  '  of  adversity,'  bringing 
to  light  the  hidden  treasures  of  neglected  intellect,  &c.,  &c. 
I  dare  go  no  farther,  lest  you  should  begin  to  compliment 
me  about  enthusiasm." 

The  form  which  his  ardent  philanthropy  assumed 
was  the  one  which  must  always  cheer  the  truly  noble 
and  heroic,  and  which  then  presented  itself  in  such  glow- 
ing hues  to  many  minds  in  France,  Germany,  and 
England, — the  vision  of  a  perfect  society.  "  Socrates 
and  Plato,"  writes  his  brother,  "  were  schoolmasters ; 
Pythagoras  went  farther,  and  formed  a  society  of  vir- 
tuous disciples, — a  society  wonderful,  because  unpa- 
ralleled. It  was,  however,  confined  to  but  a  part  of 
Italy.  My  brother  advances  with  noble  ardour  to  a 
vaster  enterprise.  The  world  is  to  be  his  Academy, 
and  all  mankind  his  pupils.  To  make  all  men  happy, 
by  making  all  virtuous,  is  his  glorious  project  I 
adore  it,  thou  moral  Archimedes  !  but  where  wilt  thou 
stand  to  move  the  mental  world  ?  Whither  has  en- 
thusiasm hurried  you  ? "  &c.  So,  also,  his  friend 
Walter  writes : — "  Will  you  make  yourself  miserable, 
because  you  cannot  reach  the  rainbow  from  the  hill  ? 
In  heaven,  Channing,  you  will  find  the  scope  you  seek 
for  progression  in  virtue ;  but  here  the  mind  partakes 
of  the  clay  which  incloses  it,"  &c. 

His  views  may  be  best  learned  from  the  following 
letter : — 

"  I  have  of  late,  my  friend,  launched  boldly  into  specula- 
tions on  the  possible  condition  of  mankind  in  the  progress 
of  their  improvement.  I  find  avarice  the  great  bar  to  all 


112  RICHMOND. 

my  schemes,  and  I  do  not  hesitate  to  assert  that  the  human 
race  will  never  be  happier  then  at  present  till  the  esta- 
blishment of  a  community  of  property. 

"  I  derive  my  sentiments  from  the  nature  of  man.  What 
is  man?  for  what  was  he  born?  To  vegetate,  to  draw 
nutrition  from  the  earth,  and  then  wither  away  forgotten 
and  unknown?  0,  no!  he  bears  a  spark  of  divinity  in  his 
bosom,  and  it  is  Promethean  fire  which  animates  his  clay. 
Look  at  the  human  mind.  See  it  bursting  forth,  spreading 
itself  through  infinite  space,  by  its  power  of  receiving  ideas 
from  external  objects  concentrating  immensity  in  a  point, 
and  by  its  powers  of  retrospect  and  anticipation  concentrat- 
ing eternity  in  a  moment.  Need  I  mention  his  faculty 
of  moral  discernment,  or  his  creative  imagination  ?  Now, 
Shaw,  I  would  ask  you,  in  what  does  the  perfection  of  man 
consist ;  which  part  of  his  nature  requires  most  care ;  from 
what  source  is  his  most  rational  and  permanent  happiness 
derived?  The  answer  you  must  make  is,  '  The  mind.'  In 
proportion  as  his  mind  is  improved  in  science  and  virtue, 
in  that  degree  is  he  happy. 

"  Now,  my  friend,  let  me  ask  you  to  look  on  the  world 
and  to  show  me  the  man  who  is  engaged  in  this  improve- 
ment. All  is  hurry,  all  is  business.  But  why  this  tumult? 
To  pamper  the  senses  and  load  the  body  with  idle  trappings. 
Show  me  the  man  who  ever  toiled  for  wealth  to  relieve 
misery,  and  unrivet  the  chains  of  oppression.  Show  me 
the  man  who  ever  imported  virtue  from  the  Indies,  or  be- 
came a  better  Christian  by  increasing  his  hoard.  Are  not 
the  mines  of  science  forsaken  for  those  of  Potosi  ?  Does 
not  the  pursuit  of  wealth  damp  our  feelings,  freeze  up  the 
tears  of  benevolence,  check  the  flight  of  genius,  and  excite 
in  our  bosom  distrust  and  suspicion  towards  our  brethren  of 
the  human  race?  Does  it  not  render  mankind  venal  and 
mercenary?  Yes  ;  give  me  gold  enough  and  I  will  buy  up 
the  souls  of  our  whole  species.  I  do  not  except  myself.  I 


EDUCATION.  1 1  3 

love  money.  I  have  my  price.  And  what  is  gold  ?  Perishing 
earth  and  dust.  What  does  it  procure  ?  Meat,  drink,  and 
clothing.  Now,  Shaw,  since  the  body  is  so  inferior  to  the 
mind,  do  you  think  that  more  attention  should  be  paid  to 
feeding  and  clothing  it  than  is  absolutely  necessary  ?  No. 
Is  not  this  speculative  opinion  Supported  by  fact  ?  Do  not 
nature  and  experience  declare  to  us,  that  the  more  temperate 
we  are,  the  healthier  and  happier  we  are  ?  The  wants  of 
the  body,  then,  are  few ;  and  the  labour  of  mankind  is  misap- 
plied. This  conclusion  js  fairly  drawn  from  the  premises. 

"But  here  you  will  cry  out,  'All  this  is  theoretic  non- 
sense. Man  is  selfish.  He  will  always  strive  to  gratify 
his  senses ;  and  if  gold  will  procure  these  gratifications,  he 
will  always  pursue  it.'  Stop,  my  friend  ;  I  grant  that  man 
is  selfish.  But  ought  he  to  be  so  ?  Was  man  framed  for 
himself,  or  for  his  fellow-men  ?  On  this  point  of  morality 
J  know  we  shall  agree  ;  and  you  will  think  as  I  do,  that  if 
we  can  substitute  benevolence  for  selfishness,  we  shall  add 
to  the  sum  of  human  virtue  and  happiness.  Again,  ought 
man  to  provide  most  for  his  body  or  his  mind  ?  Here,  too, 
we  shall  agree ; — and  no  doubt  you  wish  to  see  a  love  of 
science  take  the  place  of  a  love  of  money  in  the  human 
breast.  Now  I  think  that  these  changes  can  be  effected  in 
the  sentiments  and  feelings  of  mankind.  How?  By 
education.  Do  you  wonder,  Shaw,  that  you  see  so  many 
selfish  and  avaricious  wretches  on  earth,  when  you  behold 
every  mother,  as  she  holds  her  child  on  her  knee,  instilling 
the  maxims  of  worldly  prudence  into  his  tender  bosom? 
How  is  it  that  you  and  I,  in  the  midst  of  this  infection, 
still  glow  with  benevolence  to  mankind,  and  derive  such 
high  joys  from  the  cultivation  of  our  minds  ?  Is  not  this 
an  earnest  of  what  would  happen  universally,  were  the 
world  to  unite  in  instilling  these  noble  principles  into  the 
rising  generation  ?  Judge  from  your  own  feelings,  whether 
the  principle  of  benevolence,  sympathy,  or  humanity  is  not 


114  RICHMOND. 

so  strongly  impressed  on  the  heart  by  God  himself,  that,  with 
proper  care,  it  might  become  the  principle  of  action. 
Judge  from  your  own  feelings,  whether  the  love  of  science 
is  not  founded  upon  so  natural  a  sentiment, — T  mean 
curiosity,— that,  with  the  same  care,  it  would  pervade  every 
bosom.  I  declare  to  you  that  I  believe  these  ideas  to  be 
incontrovertible.  Do  you  not  glow  at  the  prospect  ?  Be- 
hold the  rising  virtues  attended  by  truth  and  wisdom,— 

peace  with  her  olive-branch,  compassion  with  her  balm, 

0  my  friend !  I  can  go  no  farther.  I  feel  a  noble  enthu- 
siasm spreading  through  my  frame ;  every  nerve  is  strung, 
every  muscle  is  labouring ;  my  bosom  pants  with  a  great, 
half-conceived,  and  indescribable  sentiment;  I  seem  in- 
spired with  a  surrounding  deity. 

"'But  stop,'  I  hear  you  say,  'you  are  too  impetuous. 
How  will  you  lead  mankind  to  educate  their  children  in 
this  way  ?'  Ay,  there  is  the  rub ;  there  lies  the  difficulty. 
It  is  only  by  implanting  benevolence  and  love  of  science  in 
the  mind  of  the  parent,  and  rooting  out  7m  avarice  and 
selfishness,  that  we  can  hope  to  see  the  child  educated  as 
we  wish.  '  But  how  can  this  be  effected?  Do  you  mean 
to  •war  with  nature  ? '  No ;  I  am  convinced  that  virtue  and 
benevolence  are  natural  to  man.  I  believe  that  selfishness 
and  avarice  have  arisen  from  two  ideas  universally  incul- 
cated on  the  young  and  practised  upon  by  the  old, — (1 .) 
that  every  individual  has  a  distinct  interest  to  pursue  from 
the  interest  of  the  community ;  and  (2.)  that  the  body  requires 
more  care  than  the  mind. 

"I  believe  these  ideas  to  be  false;  and  I  believe  that 
you  can  never  banish  them,  till  you  persuade  mankind  to 
cease  to  act  upon  them ;  that  is,  till  you  can  persuade  them 
(1.)  to  destroy  all  distinctions  of  property  (which  you  are 
sensible  must  perpetuate  this  supposed  distinction  of  in- 
terest), and  to  throw  the  produce  of  their  labour  into  one 
common  stock,  instead  of  hoarding  it  up  in  their  own 


ASPIRATIONS.  1 1 5 

garners ;  and  (2.)  to  become  really  conscious  of  the  powers 
and  the  dignity  of  their  mind.  You  must  convince  man- 
kind that  they  themselves,  and  all  which  they  possess,  are 
but  parts  of  a  great  whole ;  that  they  are  bound  by  God, 
their  common  father,  to  labour  for  the  good  of  this  great 
whole ;  that  their  wants  are  but  few,  and  can  easily  be  sup- 
plied ;  that  mind,  mind  requires  all  their  care ;  and  that 
the  dignity  of  their  nature  and  the  happiness  of  others 
require  them  to  improve  this  mind  in  science  and  virtue. 
Believe  me,  my  friend,  you  can  never  root  out  selfishness 
and  avarice,  till  you  destroy  the  idea  that  private  interest 
is  distinct  from  the  public.  You  must  lead  every  man  to 
propose  to  himself,  in  all  his  actions,  the  good  of  the  whole 
for  his  object.  He  must  plough  and  till  the  earth,  that  all 
may  eat  of  the  produce  of  his  labour.  Mine  and  thine  must 
be  discarded  from  his  vocabulary.  He  should  call  every 
thing  ours.  Here  would  be  no  robbery,  for  a  man  could 
steal  nothing  but  his  own.  No  man  would  be  idle  where 
such  sentiments  and  such  examples  prevailed ;  and  where 
there  was  no  luxury  to  enervate  him,  every  man  would 
have  leisure  to  cultivate  the  mind.  We  should  sleep 
securely ;  we  should  live  long  and  happily ;  and,  perhaps, 
like  old  Enoch,  when  the  tame  came,  be  translated  to 
heaven. 

"  You  will  tell  me  that  this  is  all  chimera,  that  if  we 
could  indeed  convert  one  generation,  it  would  be  very  easy 
to  perpetuate  this  order  of  things  by  education  through 
those  that  followed ;  but  how  shall  we  convert  this  genera- 
tion ?  Shaw !  do  you  sit  still  and  ask  this  question  ?  Rise ! 
rise !  It  is  the  voice  of  benevolence.  Do  you  not  feel  new 
energies  at  the  sound  ?  Why  despair  of  success  ?  Are  not 
you  yourself  ready  to  devote  every  moment  of  existence 
and  every  drop  of  your  blood  to  the  service  of  mankind? 
And  are  you  and  I  the  only  virtuous  ones  upon  earth  ?  No ! 
Thousands  are  ready  to  join  hands  with  us.  Truth  is  om- 


116  RICHMOND. 

nipotent.  She  must  prevail.  Are  not  benevolence  and 
thirst  for  knowledge  so  natural  to  our  race,  that,  by  cherish- 
ing them  in  youth,  when  the  mind  is  unwarped,  we  can 
form  them  into  principles  of  action  ?  Is  there  a  man  so 
hard  of  heart,  that  you  cannot  find  in  him  some  string  to 
vibrate  to  the  touch  of  humanity  ?  Why  despair,  then  ? 
You  profess  to  believe  in  the  Christian  religion.  Does  not 
Christianity  favour  such  a  scheme  ?  I  helieve  it  will  be 
hard  to  reconcile  Christian  humility,  charity,  and  contempt 
of  riches,  with  the  present  establishment  of  human  affairs. 
Read  Soame  Jenyns.  His  arguments  cannot  be  disproved. 

"  Rouse,  then.  Consider  how  you  may  best  serve  man- 
kind. Lend  this  letter  to  Walter.  '  We  few,  we  happy 
few,  we  band  of  brothers,'  will  unite  our  exertions  in  the 
cause  of  virtue  and  science.  We  will  beat  down  with  the 
irresistible  engines  of  truth  those  strong  ramparts  con- 
solidated hy  time,  within  which  avarice,  ignorance,  and 
selfishness  have  intrenched  themselves.  We  will  plant  the 
standards  of  virtue  and  science  on  the  ruins,  and  lay  the 
foundation  of  a  fair  fabric  of  human  happiness  to  endure 
as  long  as  time,  and  to  acquire  new  grace  and  lustre  with 
the  lapse  of  ages. 

"  My  dear  Shaw,  I  fear  you  will  say  I  am  crazy.  No, 
no, — 

'  My  pulse  as  yours  doth  temperately  keep  time, 
And  makes  as  healthful  music.' 

Then  you  will  tell  me  I  am  one  of  the  Illuminati.  Upon 
my  honour,  I  never  did  receive  any  letter  or  letters  from 
Weishaupt*  in  my  life.  These  sentiments  have  arisen 
altogether  from  my  detestation  of  avarice  and  selfishness. 
"  You  will  see,  through  the  whole  of  this  letter,  an  ardent 
desire  to  serve  mankind.  This  is  the  reigning  wish  of  my 

*  Professor  at  the  Bavarian  Institute  of  Ingoldstadt,  and  founder  of 
the  Order  of  the  Illuminati,  1776. 


ASPIRATIONS.  117 

heart.     Do  try  to  think  of  some  means  in  which  we  can 
unite  our  efforts  for  so  desirable  an  end." 

What  particular  plan  had  taken  shape  in  his  mind 
does  not  appear  distinctly,  though,  from  his  papers,  it  is 
probable  that  he  thought  of  joining  himself,  as  minister, 
to  a  settlement  of  Scotch  emigrants,  whose  fundamental 
principle  was  common  property.  Friends  speak  laugh- 
ingly of  his  "  great  scheme ;  "  and  Walter  proposes,  in 
a  vein  of  mock  earnestness,  to  carry  out  the  "  imaginary 
republic  of  Coleridge  and  Southey,  and  a  community  of 
goods,  in  the  back-woods,  or,  better  far,  in  some  South 
Sea  island."  He  then  goes  on  to  expose  what  appear 
to  him  the  peculiar  dangers  and  temptations  of  "  com- 
munity," and  ends  thus : — 

"  Indeed,  Channing,  your  sentiments  are  too  extravagant. 
No  doubt,  man  would  be  happier,  if  he  were  better.  But 
the  difficulty  is  to  make  him  better.  I  do  not  know  that 
this  can  be  done.  You  say  it  is  possible  ;  but  I  can  hardly 
believe.  I  fear  that  the  German  Weishaupt  has  been 
tampering  with  you.  However,  he  never  attacked  your 
reason  and  judgment,  but  only  warmed  your  imagination, 
by  showing  you,  in  distant  perspective,  beautiful  scenes  of 
men,  and  women,  and  children,  sitting  under  oak-trees,  eat- 
ing acorns  and  drinking  water.  I  suppose  in  conformity 
with  his  wishes  you  are  studying  German  in  order  to  be 
able  to  comprehend  the  mysteries  of  the  institution,  which 
are  so  sublime  that  the  English  language  sinks  under  their 
weight.  Jacobinism  is  closely  connected  with  their  system, 
is  it  not  ?  and  this  is  the  reason  why  you  tell  me  high 
things  of  the  Democratic  Virginians  ?  " 

His  grandfather  Ellery,  too,  in  his  plain,  straight- 
forward fashion,  opens  his  mind  to  his  young  relative 
thus: — 


118  RICHMOND. 

"  Godwin's  '  Political  Justice '  is  after  the  manner  of  the 
French  philosophers.  I  am  not  acquainted  with  his  moral 
character ;  but  I  despise  French  philosophists.  Their  sys- 
tem goes  to  the  destruction  of  all  government  and  all  mo- 
rality. I  wish  the  poorer  sort  of  the  Godwinites  and  Jaco- 
binites  would  push  home  upon  their  rich  leaders  in  the 
doctrines  of  perfectibility  and  equalization,  the  necessity  of 
a  community  of  goods,  in  order  to  a  consistency  of  conduct 
with  principle.  This  would  make  a  division  among  them ; 
for  I  believe  I  may  confidently  say,  that  there  is  not  a  rich 
man  of  those  principles,  who  would  share  his  property  with 
the  poor  of  the  pretended  fraternity.  He  might  perhaps 
say,  '  Be  ye  warmed,  be  ye  clothed ; '  but  he  would  not 
give  a  cent,  unless  for  the  purpose  of  elections,  or  to  carry 
some  other  favourite  point.  The  principles  referred  to  are 
deistical ;  and  while  men  are  absorbed  in  luxury,  and  enter- 
tain such  high  notions  of  human  nature  in  general,  and  of 
themselves  in  particular,  they  will  not  listen  with  attention 
to  the  self-denying  doctrines  of  the  Gospel,  nor  submit  to 
that  subordination  which  is  essential  to  order  and  happi- 
ness, but  will  oppose  themselves  even  to  the  government  of 
Jehovah.  To  stand  firm  in  the  midst  of  such  characters  re- 
quires a  great  degree  of  religious  fortitude;  but  I  trust 
persecution  is  not  necessary  to  preserve  your  integrity,  or 
enkindle  your  zeal.  The  rock  on  which  the  true  church  of 
Christ  is  built  is  not  to  be  overturned  by  violence  or  by 
undermining." 

These  most  kindly  meaning,  but  over-cautious, 
friends  little  knew  the  depth  of  that  living  well  of  hu- 
manity, which,  first  opening  in  young  Channing's  mind 
while  reading  Hutcheson  in  college,  was  thenceforth  to 
pour  abroad  an  exhaustless  river.  The  current  might 
be  diverted,  but  nothing  could  seal  the  fountain.  Their 
advice  influenced  his  judgment,  but  it  did  not  make  him 


GODWIN'S  POLITICAL  JUSTICE.  119 

for  an  instant  untrue  to  the  law  of  his  own  character. 
The  project  present  to  his  mind,  whatever  it  may  have 
been,  was  laid  aside ;  but  the  large  philanthropy  which 
prompted  it  was  only  purified  by  the  sacrifice.  No 
fears  suggested  by  other  minds  daunted  his  own  in- 
domitable trust.  Then,  and  for  ever, 

"  white-handed  Hope, 
The  hovering  angel  girt  with  golden  wings," 

cheered  him  and  led  him  on. 

It  would  be  interesting,  however,  to  know  how  far  this 
experience  of  an  enthusiasm  that  prompted  him  to  plans 
which  those  whom  he  reverenced  and  loved  thought  ex- 
travagant, was  instrumental  in  developing  the  deliberate- 
ness  which  was  so  conspicuous  a  trait  in  maturer  life. 
And  some  may  question,  whether  he  and  the  world 
gained  more  or  lost  by  the  vigilant  purpose,  then  pro- 
bably awakened,  to  avoid  the  least  mistake.  Were  there 
not  latent  energies  in  him  which  never  germinated, 
rich  impulses  which  never  bloomed  and  bore  seeds  for 
chance  winds  to  scatter  ?  Does  not  the  Infinite  Dis- 
poser balance  the  deficiencies  of  one  class  of  characters 
by  the  excesses  of  another,  and  thus  produce  harmony 
by  the  counterpoise  of  contrasted  energies  ?  Can  any 
created  being  approximate  nearer  to  the  right  than  by 
never  compromising  and  never  postponing,  but  always 
obeying,  the  highest  impulse  ?  On  the  other  hand, 
most  of  those  who  knew  Dr.  Channing  well  would  pro- 
bably say  that  his  crowning  grace  was  the  calm  patience 
with  which  he  refrained  from  acting,  until  he  was  free 
to  do  so  without  a  discord  in  any  chord  of  feeling.  He 
often  declared,  that,  if  there  was  any  thing  of  worth  in 
his  life  and  influence,  he  owed  it  to  the  fidelity  with 
which  he  had  listened  to  every  objection  that  was  pre- 


120  RICHMOND. 

sented  by  the  suggestion  of  his  own  or  other  minds  to 
what  he  wished  to  believe  or  to  do.  He  thought,  too, 
that  in  younger  days  his  impetuous  nature  had  led  him 
into  error ;  and  though  he  found  it  a  hard  trial  to  re- 
sist the  fervency  of  his  temperament,  he  was  yet  firmly 
resolved  never  "  to  be  possessed,"  but,  under  all  events, 
to  "  possess  his  soul  in  peace." 

But  while  Mr.  Channing's  interests  were  thus  broad, 
his  feelings  were  constantly  concentrating  more  and 
more  upon  religion,  and  a  preparation  for  the  ministry. 
And  to  his  friend  Shaw  he  thus  writes : — 

"  I  am  studying  divinity  harder  than  ever.  Thanks  to 
God  who  made  me,  I  have  chosen  the  only  profession  which 
could  make  me  happy.  By  studying  the  Scriptures  them- 
selves, I  am  trying  to  discover  the  will  of  God,  and  the  un- 
corrupted  doctrines  which  our  Saviour  taught.  I  am  certain 
that  I  am  impartial ;  and  the  honest  mind  is  in  little  danger 
of  going  wrong. 

"  I  once  called  myself  a  Christian.  But  till  lately  I  knew 
not  the  meaning  of  the  word.  I  entreat  you,  Shaw,  not  to 
absorb  yourself  so  much  in  political  pursuits,  as  to  lose 
sight  of  the  most  important  of  all  your  concerns.  The 
distinguishing  duties  of  our  holy  religion  are  humility, 
purity  of  heart,  forgiveness  of  our  worst  enemies,  forbear- 
ance under  the  heaviest  injuries,  detachment  from  the 
pleasures  and  pursuits  of  this  world,  and  supreme  affection 
to  Deity.  As  charity  is  among  the  first  of  Christian  virtues, 
Christianity  necessarily  requires  of  us  an  active  life.  It 
requires  us  to  mingle  with  our  fellow-men,  and  exert  our- 
selves in  promoting  human  happiness.  By  '  detachment 
from  the  world,'  then,  I  do  not  mean  monastic  retirement. 
You  cannot  do  too  much  good  in  the  world. 

"  It  is  impossible  for  any  one  to  be  a  Christian,  unless  lie 


RELIGIOUS    ZEAL.  121 

believes  that  the  end  of  this  life  is  to  prepare  for  heaven, 
and  bends  his  affections,  his  hopes,  and  his  thoughts  to 
this  all-important  end.  Is  your  heart  pure?  '  Blessed  are 
the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see  God.'  Are  you 
humble?  By  which  I  mean,  have  you  such  a  sense  of 
your  unworthiness  in  the  sight  of  God,  that  you  are  willing 
to  receive  with  an  honest  heart  the  truths  which  his  Son 
taught,  to  give  yourself  up  like  a  little  child  to  be  formed 
and  guided  by  him,  and  to  receive  salvation,  not  as  due  to 
your  own  merits,  but  as  a  free  and  undeserved  gift  of  God 
through  Jesus  Christ  ?  '  Whosoever  shall  not  humble  him- 
self as  this  little  child,  shall  not  enter  the  kingdom  of 
God.'  '  Resist  not  evil.'  Here  is  a  duty  too  sublime 
almost  for  our  performance.  We  can  hardly  reach  to  so 
divine  a  height,  as  to  imitate  our  Maker  in  doing  good  to 
the  unjust,  as  well  as  just.  Many  Christians  try  to  explain 
away  this  duty,  and  infidels  laugh  at  it.  But  still  it  is  in 
the  Bible,  and  it  ought  strictly  to  be  adhered  to.  What  is 
the  end  of  human  existence  ?  To  prepare  for  heaven. 
How  can  we  obtain  heaven  ?  By  cultivating  love  to  God 
and  love  to  man.  These  are  the  great  roots  from  which 
grow  all  the  duties  I  have  recommended.  Now  charity 
must  govern  us  in  all  our  conduct  with  mankind.  Christ 
has  expressly  declared  that  this  is  a  necessary  qualification 
for  one  of  his  followers.  Let  us  suppose,  then,  that  we  are 
injured.  Suppose,  that,  like  our  Master,  we  are  spit  upon. 
What  does  charity  command  us  to  do  ?  Does  she  say  to 
us,  '  Retaliate,'  or  '  Forgive?'  Is  it  not  plainer  than  sun- 
shine? But  Christianity  goes  farther.  She  tells  us  we 
cannot  meet  with  an  injury  worth  the  name.  If  one  could 
rob  us  of  heaven,  he  would  indeed  injure  us.  In  no  other 
part  is  a  Christian  vulnerable.  Farewell.  In  haste,  from 
a  full  heart. 

"  P.S.  My  intention  was  to  have  given  you  a  delineation 
of  the  peculiar  doctrines  of  our  religion.  But  I  had  not 

VOL.  I.  G 


122  RICHMOND. 

room,  and  began  -with  too  little  method.  Should  you  desire 
it,  I  will  hereafter  give  you  my  ideas  in  order  on  this  sub- 
ject. I  assure  you,  I  was  struck  with  the  sublime  precepts 
of  Christianity,  when  I  began  the  study  of  the  Bible.  I  was 
struck,  too,  with  observing  how  far  I  had  deviated  from 
them.  I  found  that  I  had  not  a  pure,  an  humble,  a  pious, 
or  a  charitable  heart.  I  saw  how  Christian  charity  differed 
from  what  I  used  to  call  benevolence.  Every  thing  was 
new  to  me." 

"  You  may  see  from  my  letters  the  warmth  with  which 
I  have  embraced  the  Christian  cause.  Would  to  God  that 
I  could  resign  every  worldly  prospect,  and  bend  my  whole 
soul  to  improvement  in  religion  and  the  diffusion  of  the 
truths  of  the  Gospel.  O  Shaw !  it  cuts  me  to  the  heart  to 
see  the  contempt  and  irreverence  with  which  the  name  and 
the  worship  of  the  '  Majesty  of  Heaven '  are  treated  by  the 
generality  of  mankind.  Do  we  not  offer  a  new  cup  of  gall 
to  our  crucified  Saviour  ?  Are  we  not  as  inhuman  as  the 
Jews  ?  Do  we  not  plat,  like  them,  a  crown  of  thorns  for 
the  head  of  our  Redeemer?  They  despised  him,  and  we 
are  ashamed  to  acknowledge  him." 

From  his  own  accounts,  he  was  at  this  period  much 
engaged  in  a  patient  and,  according  to  his  means,  a 
thorough  review  of  the  evidences  of  Christianity,  being 
stimulated  no  doubt  by  the  open  avowals  of  infidelity 
among  the  intelligent  men  of  Virginia.  This  examina- 
tion led  him,  after  long  struggles  and  painful  perplexi- 
ties, to  an  unfaltering  faith  in  the  providential  mission 
and  miraculous  character  of  Jesus  Christ.  It  was  under 
the  impulse  of  this  deepened  reverence  for  revelation, 
that  he  began  the  serious  study  of  the  Scriptures,  even 
writing  out  for  himself  quite  a  voluminous  commentary 
upon  the  New  Testament,  which  he  afterward  destroyed. 
He  sought,  too,  the  advice  of  religious  friends;  and 


STUDY   OF   THE    BIBLE.  128 

we  find  him  thus  describing  his  pursuits  and  spiritual 
condition,  in  a  letter  to  the  Kev.  Joseph  McKean,  then 
lately  settled  at  Milton,  Massachusetts. 

"  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  applied  to  our  common  friend  and 
brother,  Francis,  a  few  weeks  ago,  to  desire  him  to  procure 
for  me  a  religious  correspondent.  I  told  him  that  I  could 
not  find  in  Virginia  one  young  man  to  whom  I  could  express 
my  sentiments  on  religious  subjects,  or  to  whose  bosom  I 
could  confide  those  feelings  which  the  study  of  the  Scrip- 
tures inspired  in  my  own.  I  told  him  that  I  wanted  a 
friend  to  whom  I  could  propose  the  difficulties  which  I 
found  in  the  Bible, — a  friend  who  had  devoted  his  life  to 
the  service  of  his  God,  to  whom  I  could  open  my  whole 
heart,  and  talk  with  the  familiarity  of  a  brother.  In  a  late 
letter,  he  tells  me  that  you  were  pleased  with  the  idea  of 
such  a  correspondence. 

"  I  began  the  study  of  divinity  with  attending  to  the 
evidences  of  Christianity.  I  examined  them  with  caution, 
and  I  think  without  prejudice;  and  I  am  convinced  that 
this  religion  is  truly  divine.  I  have  now  undertaken  to 
acquaint  myself  with  the  doctrines  of  this  religion ;  and  to 
do  this  I  have  not  applied  to  any  commentators,  or  to  any 
authors  except  the  apostles  themselves.  My  object  is  to 
discover  the  truth.  I  wish  to  know  what  Christ  taught, 
not  what  men  have  made  him  teach.  I  well  knew,  that,  if 
T  began  with  .reading  polemical  divinity,  there  were  ten 
chances  to  one  that  I  should  embrace  the  system  of  the 
first  author  which  I  studied,  whether  right  or  wrong.  I 
was  certain,  that,  as  Christ  came  to  save  the  world,  every 
truth  essential  to  salvation  must  be  plainly  unfolded  in  the 
Scriptures.  I  had  also  observed  that  many  ministers,  in- 
stead of  guiding  then*  flocks  to  the  gates  of  heaven,  had 
become  so  entangled  in  controversy  as  to  neglect  their  most 
solemn  charge,  the  saving  of  men's  souk.  These  are  the 

G  2 


124  RICHMOND. 

reasons  which  have  induced  me  to  apply  to  the  Bible — that 
only  source  of  divine  knowledge — and  to  the  Bible  alone. 
The  advantages  I  have  derived  from  such  a  course  seem  to 
prove  the  propriety  of  it.  I  might  have  found  the  same 
truths  in  other  authors,  but  they  could  never  have  made  so 
forcible  an  impression  on  my  mind.  I  have  been  active  in 
acquiring,  not  passive  in  receiving,  the  great  precepts  and 
doctrines  of  Christianity,  and  the  strength  of  my  conviction 
is  proportioned  to  the  labour  I  have  bestowed.  My  heart, 
too,  has  been  affected,  as  well  as  my  mind  enlightened.  I 
have  learned  to  view  every  thing,  as  it  were,  through  the 
medium  of  Scripture,  to  judge  of  actions  by  the  standard  of 
Scripture  morality,  and  to  estimate  the  importance  of 
present  wants  by  their  influence  on  the  happiness  of 
another  state.  Such  is  the  plan  which  I  follow,  and  such 
are  the  effects  which  I  ascribe  to  it.  I  would  thank  you 
for  your  opinion  on  the  propriety  of  it." 

He  then  goes  on  to  state  some  critical  difficulties 
which  he  says  have  struck  him,  and  closes  as  follows: — 

"  They  do  not  affect  any  of  the  great  doctrines  of  Chris- 
tianity. But,  as  they  are  parts  of  the  Bible,  I  wish  to 
understand  them,  and  as  they  are  apparent  contradictions, 
they  affect  the  credibility  of  the  history." 

Mr.  Charming  was  at  this  time  examining  also  the 
speculative  doctrines  of  the  various  sects;  and  he  ap- 
parently pursued  this  work  with  something  of  the 
blended  freedom  and  caution  of  his  later  years,  for  we 
find  that  he  was  charged  by  correspondents  both  with 
over-orthodoxy  and  heresy.  One  friend  writes  to 
him :  —  "  For  my  part,  I  must  dispense  with  your 
sermon,  as  our  tenets.,  I  conjecture,  do  not  coincide. 
You  will  look  quite  sober  when  I  tell  you  that  I  am  a 
'  Price-ite,'  and  believe,  with  him,  an  honest  mind  to  be 


LONELINESS.  125 

the  one  thing  needful.  I  am  quite  a  heretic,  I  know, 
on  your  system,  but  hope  it  is  not  criminal,  as  I  am 
Christian  enough  to  hold  fast  to  every  principle  neces- 
sary to  piety  and  to  virtue."  But  from  the  opposite 
side  a  correspondent  appeals  to  him  thus :  —  "  From  an 
observation  in  one  of  your  late  letters  expressive  of  a 
doubt  of  the  vicarious  character  of  Christ,  I  am  induced 
to  think  you  have  not  read  Butler  with  that  attention 
he  deserves.  I  think  he  has  proved,  that  if  we  are  con- 
vinced by  historical  evidence  of  the  truth  of  revelation, 
we  are  not  to  doubt  of  its  doctrines  because  wonderful 
or  mysterious.  The  arguments  on  the  proposition  are 
worthy,  perhaps,  of  another  attentive  perusal.  I  am  not 
singular  in  allowing  them  to  be  irrefragable.  As  a 
friend  to  truth  I  shall  with  pleasure  peruse  your  reply, 
and  as  candidly  give  to  every  objection  its  due  weight. 
I  must,  however,  request  you  not  to  unfold  them  in 

your  letters,  which  are  generally  shown  to ,  as  they 

may  give  unreasonable  and  painful  alarms.  You  know 
the  prejudices  of  education,  and  that  to  the  last  genera- 
tion one  step  from  orthodoxy  is  a  deviation  into  heresy." 
His  liberality  was  probably  quickened  by  the  variety  of 
opinions  which  he  found  prevailing  around  him,  and  by 
the  catholic  spirit  that  pervaded  Richmond.  But  al- 
though he  found  advantage  in  thus  looking  upon  all 
sides  of  dogmatic  questions,  yet  his  inward  struggles 
were  greatly  multiplied,  and  his  mental  loneliness  be- 
came almost  intolerable,  as  appears  from  the  following 
extracts  from  letters. 

"Would,  Shaw,  that  you  were  here!  I  want  a  friend; 
but  I  can  nowhere  find  one.  My  social  feelings  are  as 
strong  as  ever;  but  I  cannot  often  gratify  them.  I  am 


126  RICHMOND. 

sick  of  the  unmeaning  conversation  of  fashionable  circles. 
By  society,  I  mean  the  communion  of  souls.  But  where  is 
this  to  be  found?  How  I  long  to  lean  upon  your  arm,  as  I 
walk  through  the  woods !  But  away  with  gloom  ....  I 
cannot  but  thank  you  for  your  kind  attentions,  which  from 
any  one  else  would  be  burdensome  to  me.  But  knowing  the 
goodness  of  your  heart,  and  that  you  receive  more  happiness 
in  conferring  than  1  can  in  receiving  your  favours,  I  banish 
the  painful  idea  from  my  mind  that  T  am  troublesome  to 
you,  and  enjoy  without  alloy  all  the  pleasures  which  your 
friendship  provides  for  me. 

"  If  you  can  indeed  find  leisure,  write,  I  beg  of  you.  I 
would  empty  my  light  purse  (for  light  it  is)  every  day  of 
the  week,  if  money  could  purchase  such  letters  as  I  have 
to-night  received.  Do  not  construe  any  thing  I  have  said 
into  an  indifference  about  hearing  from  you.  I  wish  you 
could  see  the  rapture  beam  in  my  dull  eyes  as  I  open  your 
packages  ;  you  would  want  no  other  proof  of  my  eagerness 
to  correspond  with  you." 

There  was  at  that  time  but  one  church  in  Richmond, 
though  services  were  held  also  in  the  Hall  of  Burgesses, 
where  an  Episcopalian  and  Presbyterian  alternately 
officiated;  and  interest  in  religion  generally  was  slight. 
Mr.  Channing  was  driven  to  rely,  therefore,  very  much 
upon  himself  in  determining  his  views,  and  finding 
nutriment  for  devoutness  and  love.  His  trials  and 
struggles  he  thus  makes  known  to  his  uncle: — 

"  Would  to  God  that  I  could  return  a  favourable  answer 
to  your  question  respecting  religion!  Christianity  is  here 
breathing  its  last.  I  cannot  find  a  friend  with  whom  I  can 
even  converse  on  religious  subjects.  I  am  obliged  to  con- 
fine my  feelings  to  my  own  bosom.  How  often,  when  I 
have  walked  out  into  the  country,  have  I  looked  for  a  com- 


SELF-CONSECRATION.  127 

panion  to  whom  I  could  address  the  language  of  praise  and 
adoration  which  was  trembling  on  my  lips,  and  which  the. 
surrounding  scenes  of  nature  had  excited !  But  in  vain.  I 
fear  that  they  read  the  volume  of  nature  without  once 
thinking  of  its  Author.  The  Bible  is  wholly  neglected. 
That  treasure  of  wisdom  and  comfort  is  trodden  under  foot. 
The  wonders  of  redeeming  love  excite  no  sentiments  of 
gratitude.  The  glad  tidings  of  a  Saviour  are  heard  without 
joy.  Infidelity  is  very  general  among  the  higher  classes ; 
and  they  who  do  not  reject  Christianity  can  hardly  be  said 
to  believe,  as  they  never  examine  the  foundations  on  which 
it  rests.  In  fine,  religion  is  in  a  deplorable  state.  Many  of 
the  people  have  wondered  how  I  could  embrace  such  an  un- 
profitable profession  as  the  ministry.  Alas !  they  know  not 
the  riches  which  God  has  promised  to  those  who  serve  him. 
You  may  fear,  my  uncle,  lest  I  have  fallen  a  prey  to  the 
contagion  of  example.  Thanks  to  God !  I  have  maintained 
my  ground.  The  streams  of  dissipation  have  flowed  by  me, 
and  I  have  not  felt  a  wish  to  taste  them. 

"  I  will  go  farther,  Sir.  I  believe  that  I  never  experienced 
that  change  of  heart  which  is  necessary  to  constitute  a 
Christian,  till  within  a  few  months  past.  The  worldling 
would  laugh  at  me ;  he  would  call  conversion  a  farce.  But 
the  man  who  has  felt  the  influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit  can 
oppose  fact  and  experience  to  empty  declaration  and  con- 
temptuous sneers.  You  remember  the  language  of  the 
blind  man  whom  Jesus  healed, — "  This  I  know,  that  whereas 
I  was  blind,  now  I  see."  Such  is  the  language  which  the 
real  Christian  may  truly  utter.  Once,  and  not  long  ago, 
I  was  blind,  blind  to  my  own  condition,  blind  to  the  good- 
ness of  God,  and  blind  to  the  love  of  my  Redeemer.  Now 
I  behold  with  shame  and  confusion  the  depravity  and 
rottenness  of  my  heart.  Now  I  behold  with  love  and 
admiration  the  long-suffering  and  infinite  benevolence  of 
Deity. 


128  RICHMOND. 

"  All  my  sentiments  and  affections  have  lately  changed. 
I  once  considered  mere  moral  attainments  as  the  only 
object  I  had  to  pursue.  I  have  now  solemnly  given  myself 
up  to  God.  I  consider  supreme  love  to  him  as  the  first  of 
all  duties,  and  morality  seems  but  a  branch  from  the 
vigorous  root  of  religion.  I  love  mankind  because  they 
are  the  children  of  God.  I  practise  temperance,  and  strive 
for  purity  of  heart,  that  I  may  become  a  temple  for  his 
holy  spirit  to  dwell  in.  I  long,  most  earnestly  long,  to  be 
such  a  minister  as  Fenelon  describes.  Religion  is  the  only 
treasure  worth  pursuing.  I  consider  the  man  who  recom- 
mends it  to  society  as  more  useful  than  the  greatest  states- 
man and  patriot  who  adorns  the  page  of  history.  What 
liberty  so  valuable  as  liberty  of  heart— freedom  from  sin?" 

In  this  letter,  it  will  be  observed,  Mr.  Charming  says, 
"  I  have  now  solemnly  given  myself  up  to  God ; "  and 
among  his  papers  is  found  his  act  of  self -consecration. 
One  reads  the  time- stained  writing  with  reverent  ten- 
derness, as  he  would  take  from  a  crypt  a  sacred  relic ; 
but  it  is  of  too  personal  a  character  to  publish.  It  is 
chiefly  remarkable  for  the  sincerity  with  which  its 
writer  lays  bare  the  morbid  action  of  his  soul,  and  for 
the  care  with  which  he  seeks  to  guard  against  renewed 
failure  in  every  possible  emergency,  and  to  map  out 
clearly  the  path  of  duty  in  all  relations.  This  paper 
marks  the  transition-point  in  the  development  of  his 
character.  The  day-dreams  of  boyhood,  the  hopes  of 
youth,  the  longings  and  aspirations  of  eighteen  years, 
like  morning  clouds,  condense  and  fall  in  a  refreshing 
rain  of  penitence.  He  has  recognised  in  himself  the 
want  of  unity,  moral  confusion,  and  discordant  ten- 
dencies, liability  to  sin  and  actual  sinfulness,  self  love, 
bondage  to  sense,  to  personal  habits,  to  social  customs ; 


CONVERSION.  129 

he  has  felt  to  the  quick  the  need  of  a  harmonizing 
principle  of  order,  of  serenity,  fulness,  freedom,  force ; 
he  has  become  conscious  of  the  sublime  power  of  con- 
forming action,  thought,  and  temper  to  the  inward 
oracle  of  right;  above  all,  he  has  learned  the  mysterious 
law  of  spiritual  life,  that  pure  impulses  must  be  renewed 
by  trustful,  humble,  earnest  seeking  and  waiting  for  the 
influence  of  the  Divine  Spirit,  and  has  experienced  the 
awful  fact,  that 

"From  God  is  all  that  soothes  the  life  of  man, 
His  high  endeavour,  and  his  glad  success, 
His  strength  to  suffer,  and  his  will  to  serve." 

Henceforth  there  will  be  less  impetuosity,  more  stead- 
fastness, less  bold  enthusiasm,  more  forethought,  vigi- 
lance, and  patient  hope.  An  on-looker  may  be  inclined 
to  mourn  that  conscientiousness  so  strictly  rules  an 
originally  buoyant  genius;  but  he  will  see,  too,  with 
what  beautiful  radiance,  love,  constantly  brightening 
like  a  central  sun,  throws  peace  and  joy  upon  balanced 
powers  moving  in  even  orbits.  The  thought,  also,  will 
present  itself,  had  this  noble  heart  but  reached  maturity 
in  an  age  when  a  faith  serene  as  that  of  his  later  life 
was  filling  society  around  him  like  a  genial  atmosphere, 
then  how  would  such  an  era  of  earnest  piety  have  ex- 
panded every  faculty,  as  the  sunbeams  open  flowers ! 
But  these  confessions,  shadowed  as  they  are  by  the 
gloomy  theology  which  at  that  period  overspread  all 
minds,  still  prove  how  sovereign  was  rectitude  in  this 
man's  moral  nature,  and  how  comprehensive  and  minute 
was  its  sway.  There  was  no  trait,  through  the  whole 
of  after  life,  so  characteristic  as  the  unsleeping  over- 
sight of  his  conscience. 

Particular  phrases,  and  indeed  the  whole  tone  of  the 

G3 


130  RICHMOND. 

papers  which  thus  open  to  us  the  secret  chambers  of 
the  writer's  spirit,  show  that  the  views  which  he  then 
held  of  his  own  inward  condition,  and  of  his  need  of  a 
renewed  life,  were  such  as  are  commonly  called  "seri- 
ous." It  will  be  seen  that  he  even  uses  the  almost 
technical  expressions,  "change  of  heart,"  and  "con- 
version." In  regard  to  these  expressions,  however,  and 
others  also  in  the  preceding  letter,  it  is  but  right  to  add, 
that  he  frequently  asserted,  without  reservation,  that 
he  was  never  either  a  Trinitarian  or  a  Calvinist;  and 
once,  at  a  later  period  of  life,  when  asked  by  a  most 
estimable  Orthodox  acquaintance,  "  whether  he  had  not 
at  some  time  experienced  conversion,"  he  answered, — 
"I  should  say  not,  unless  the  whole  of  my  life  may  be 
called,  as  it  truly  has  been,  a  process  of  conversion;" 
to  which  this  quaint  rejoinder  was  made,  —  "Then, 
friend  Channing,  you  were  born  regenerate,  for  you 
certainly  are  now  a  child  of  God." 

Of  this  important  era  in  his  life,  Dr.  Chaining,  as 
late  as  1842,  thus  wrote  to  a  friend:* — 

"  Your  account  of  Richmond  was  very  interesting.  You 
little  suspected  how  many  remembrances  your  letter  was  to 
awaken  in  me.  I  spent  a  year  and  a  half  there,  and  per- 
haps the  most  eventful  of  my  life.  I  lived  alone,  too  poor 
to  buy  books,  spending  my  days  and  nights  in  an  outbuild- 
ing, with  no  one  beneath  my  roof  except  during  tbe  hours 
of  school-keeping.  There  I  toiled  as  I  have  never  done 
since,  for  gradually  my  constitution  sunk  under  the  unre- 
mitting exertion.  With  not  a  human  being  to  whom  I 
could  communicate  my  deepest  thoughts  and  feelings,  and 
shrinking  from  common  society,  I  passed  through  intel- 
lectual and  moral  conflicts,  through  excitements  of  heart 

*  Huguenots  in  America.     By  Mrs.  George  Lee.     Appendix,  p.  282. 


RETURN    HOME.  131 

and  mind,  so  absorbing  as  often  to  banish  sleep,  and  to 
destroy  almost  wholly  the  power  of  digestion.  I  was  worn 
well-nigh  to  a  skeleton.  Yet  I  look  back  on  those  days 
and  nights  of  loneliness  and  frequent  gloom  with  thankful- 
ness. If  I  ever  struggled  with  my  whole  soul  for  purity, 
truth,  and  goodness,  it  was  there.  There,  amidst  sore 
trials,  the  great  question,  I  trust,  was  settled  within  me, 
whether  I  would  obey  the  higher  or  lower  principles  of  my 
nature, — whether  I  would  be  the  victim  of  passion,  the 
world,  or  the  free  child  and  servant  of  God.  It  is  an  in- 
teresting recollection,  that  this  great  conflict  was  going  on 
within  me,  and  that  my  mind  was  then  receiving  its  im- 
pulse towards  the  perfect,  without  a  thought  or  suspicion  of 
one  person  around  me  as  to  what  I  was  experiencing. 
And  is  not  this  the  case  continually  ?  The  greatest  work 
on  earth  is  going  on  near  us,  perhaps  under  our  roof,  and 
we  know  it  not.  In  a  licentious,  intemperate  city,  one 
spirit,  at  least,  was  preparing,  in  silence  and  loneliness,  to 
toil,  not  wholly  in  vain,  for  truth  and  holiness." 

He  returned  to  Newport  in  July  of  the  year  1800. 
The  vessel  in  which  he  sailed  was  a  sloop  engaged  in 
transporting  coal.  It  was  in  a  most  wretched  con- 
dition, being  leaky  and  damp,  and  worse  manned,  for 
the  captain  and  crew  were  drunken.  They  ran  upon  a 
shoal,  and-  lay  there  till  fortunately  lifted  off  by  the 
next  tide.  He  was  very  sick  and  much  exposed.  And 
his  friends  were  shocked,  on  his  arrival,  to  find  the 
vigorous,  healthy  young  man,  who  had  left  them 
eighteen  months  before,  changed  to  a  thin  and  pallid 
invalid.  His  days  of  health  were  gone,  and  henceforth 
he  was  to  experience  in  the  constantly  depressed  tone 
of  a  most  delicate  organization  the  severest  trial  of  his 
life. 


CHAPTEE  V. 

STUDIES    AND    SETTLEMENT. 

MT.  20-23.     1800-1803. 

AT  Newport,  in  the  bosom  of  his  family,  Mr.  Chan- 
ning  now  remained  for  a  year  and  a  half,  devoted  to 
the  pursuit  of  his  theological  studies,  and  having  under 
his  charge  the  son  of  his  Virginia  friend,  Mr.  Randolph, 
and  his  own  youngest  brother,  whom  he  was  preparing 
for  college.  It  was  as  deep  delight  to  him  to  be  at 
home,  as  it  was  to  his  mother,  sisters,  and  brothers  to 
have  him  with  them.  Francis  had  been  compelled  to 
return  to  Cambridge,  where  he  was  established  as  a 
lawyer.  William  thus  became  the  head  of  the  house- 
hold ;  and  it  was  in  this  situation  that  his  lovely  do- 
mestic character  began  fully  to  display  itself.  The 
mantle  of  his  father's  sweetness  fell  upon  him.  When 
troubles  and  anxieties  grew  too  strong  for  his  mother 
to  bear  with  equanimity,  he  would  pass  his  arm  around 
her,  saying  "  It  will  all  be  well, — it  will  all  be  well." 
He  began,  too,  family  devotions,  and  produced  an  im- 
pression of  holiness  and  gentle  dignity  upon  the  minds 
of  the  younger  members  of  the  home  circle  which  can 
never  be  effaced.  It  is  said  that  he  was  conscious, 
however,  of  an  inherited  tendency  to  irritability  and 
sternness,  which  sometimes  displayed  itself  in  words  or 
deeds ;  and  that,  sorrowing  over  such  frailty,  and  feel- 


SELF-DISCIPLINE.  133 

ing  its  unworthiness,  he  resolved  that  he  would  never 
become  a  minister  till  he  had  gained  a  control  over  all 
angry  dispositions.  The  struggle  led  to  a  beautiful 
triumph ;  and  no  one,  who  saw  the  unbroken  serenity 
of  his  mature  manhood,  could  easily  conceive  that 
there  had  ever  been  an  original  excitability  to  over- 
come. His  disinterestedness  and  anxious  care  for  each 
and  every  one  around  him  were  unvarying.  He  under- 
took the  superintendence  of  his  three  sisters'  education, 
and  induced  one  of  them  to  give  herself  up  very  much  to 
his  guidance.  "  This  year,"  writes  this  sister,  is  "  im- 
pressed on  my  mind  by  his  kind  interest  in  me.  He 
used  to  take  me  on  his  lap,  and  hold  long  conversa- 
tions, which  I  sometimes  thought  too  serious,  though 
he  would  also  play  draughts  with  me  for  my  amuse- 
ment. He  led  me  to  walk  with  him,  also,  on  the  beach, 
when  he  would  attract  my  attention  to  the  glories  of 
nature  and  of  its  Author."  He  was  at  this  time,  though 
not  unsocial,  yet  disinclined  to  large  companies,  and 
fond  of  retirement.  Such  a  course,  he  used  to  say, 
"  made  less  work  for  repentance."  His  whole  mode  of 
life  was  extremely  simple  and  abstemious,  partly  with 
the  view  of  restoring  his  enfeebled  health,  but  still 
more  because  he  felt  such  habits  to  be  favourable  to 
the  calmness  and  clearness  of  mind  and  the  pure 
spirituality  which  he  aspired  to  reach. 

The  following  extracts  from  his  early  papers  will 
best  show  the  manner  in  which,  at  this  period,  he  was 
endeavouring  to  discipline  his  spirit. 

"  I  must  not  consider  doing  good  as  an  accidental  plea- 
sure, but  make  it  the  business  of  life.  Let  me  seek,  not 
wait,  for  opportunities.  Let  the  active  spirit  of  Christian 
charity  be  ever  watchful  in  discovering  objects,  and  per- 


134  STUDIES   AND    SETTLEMENT. 

severing  in  devising  means  of  usefulness.  Love  is  happi- 
ness ;  lie  who  grows  in  love  grows  in  happiness.  God  is 
Love ;  and  His  image  in  us  is  love.  If  I  would  resemble 
Him,  let  me  strengthen  love.  I  feel  now  that  a  degrading 
selfishness  reigns  in  my  heart." 

"  In  doing  good,  let  me  aim  at  simplicity  of  means. 
There  is  no  need  of  expressing  my  intention,  of  asking 
an  idle  question,  of  appearing  to  labour.  Let  a  silent,  per- 
severing course  of  action  lead  me  to  my  end." 

"  Poverty  and  sickness  have  the  first  claims  for  relief. 
Let  me,  in  my  solitary  walks  by  night,  search  for  wretched- 
ness, and  for  my  Lord's  sake  communicate  the  last  of  my 
store.  Let  me  remember  with  Titus,  that  I  have  lost  that 
day  in  which  I  have  done  no  good  to  a  fellow-man." 

"  But  there  are  higher  ways  of  doing  good.  I  should 
show  the  influence  of  religion  in  my  life  and  conversation. 
Religion  is  amiable,  gentle,  cheerful,  serene ;  a  friend  to 
the  social  affections,  the  source  of  disinterestedness.  Let 
me  not  represent  it,  then,  as  gloomy  or  hopeless.  Levity, 
unmeaning  gaiety,  however,  throws  the  mind  off  its  guard, 
and  opens  the  door  to  every  temptation.  Strict  self-com- 
mand is  absolutely  necessary.  The  Christian,  though 
cheerful,  is  vigilant." 

"  Let  charity  embrace  in  her  broad  arms  all  sects.  Why 
should  I  brand  any  who  differ  from  me  with  opprobrious 
epithets  ?  Let  me  unite  with  all  who  love  Jesus  Christ  in 
sincerity  in  propagating  his  religion." 

"  It  will  sometimes  be  necessary  to  change  the  tone  of 
approbation  and  pity  to  that  of  denial.  But  let  me  act  on 
such  occasions  deliberately,  not  from  whim  or  dislike  ;  and 
having  formed  my  resolution,  let  me  adhere  to  it  with  firm- 
ness. Let  me  offer  my  reasons  in  a  short,  perspicuous 
manner,  or,  if  I  wish  to  conceal  them,  give  one  positive 
answer  and  leave  the  subject,  undisturbed  by  remonstrance, 
ridicule  or  reproach.  Mildness  is  not  inconsistent  with 


REDWOOD    LIBRARY.  135 

manly  firmness.  Benevolence  will  lose  all  its  beauty,  and 
much  of  its  influence,  if  allowed  to  degenerate  into  indis- 
criminate, weak  indulgence.  A  world  would  be  too  small 
a  recompense  for  one  sacrifice  of  principle." 

"  When  I  feel  irritable,  let  me  be  silent,  let  me  quit 
society.  I  wish  to  be  cool  and  collected  amidst  insult  and 
provocation.  I  would  avoid  the  diffuseness  which  charac- 
terizes anger,  and  vindicate  my  character,  conduct,  or 
opinions,  in  as  few  and  temperate  words  as  consists  with 
the  regard  I  owe  to  truth.  All  impatience  to  stop  the 
person  who  speaks  to  me  will  serve  but  to  irritate.  Let 
me  be  calm,  not  using  self-command  as  a  means  of  triumph, 
but  of  mutual  happiness." 

The  whole  energy  of  his  nature,  indeed,  was  then 
devoted  to  a  preparation  for  the  responsible  profession 
that  he  had  chosen.  His  days  were  passed  at  the 
Eedwood  Library,  where  was  freely  accessible  to  his 
use  a  collection  of  books,  extremely  rare  and  valuable 
for  the  times ;  and  at  night  the  light  in  the  little  office 
near  the  house,  which  he  used  for  a  study,  was  seen 
burning  long  after  darkness  had  settled  over  his  neigh- 
bours' homes.  But  this  period  of  his  life  has  been 
most  happily  illustrated  by  himself. 

"  I  must  bless  God  for  the  place  of  my  nativity ;  for  as 
my  mind  unfolded,  I  became  more  and  more  alive  to  the 
beautiful  scenery  which  now  attracts  strangers  to  our 
island.  My  first  liberty  was  used  in  roaming  over  the 
neighbouring  fields  and  shores;  and  amid  this  glorious 
nature  that  love  of  liberty  sprang  up,  which  has  gained 
strength  within  me  to  this  hour.  I  early  received  impres- 
sions of  the  great  and  the  beautiful,  which  I  believe  have 
had  no  small  influence  in  determining  my  modes  of  thought 
and  habits  of  life.  In  this  town  I  pursued  for  a  time  my 


136         STUDIES  AND  SETTLEMENT. 

studies  of  theology.  T  had  no  professor  or  teacher  to 
guide  me ;  but  I  had  two  noble  places  of  study.  One 
was  yonder  beautiful  edifice,  now  so  frequented  and  so 
useful  as  a  public  library,  then  so  deserted,  that  I  spent 
day  after  day,  and  sometimes,  week  after  week  amidst  its 
dusty  volumes,  without  interruption  from  a  single  visitor. 
The  other  place  was  yonder  beach,  the  roar  of  which  has 
so  often  mingled  with  the  worship  of  this  place,  my  daily 
resort,  dear  to  me  in  the  sunshine,  still  more  attractive  in 
the  storm.  Seldom  do  I  visit  it  now  without  thinking  of 
the  work  which  there,  in  the  sight  of  that  beauty,  in  the 
sound  of  those  waves,  was  carried  on  in  my  soul.  No  spot 
on  earth  has  helped  to  form  me  so  much  as  that  beach. 
There  I  lifted  up  my  voice  in  praise  amidst  the  tempest. 
There,  softened  by  beauty,  I  poured  out  my  thanksgiving 
and  contrite  confessions.  There,  in  reverential  sympathy 
with  the  mighty  power  around  me,  I  became  conscious  of 
power  within.  There  struggling  thoughts  and  emotions 
broke  forth,  as  if  moved  to  utterance  by  nature's  eloquence 
of  the  winds  and  waves.  There  began  a  happiness  sur- 
passing all  worldly  pleasures,  all  gifts  of  fortune — the 
happiness  of  communing  with  the  works  of  God.  I  be- 
lieve that  the  worship,  of  which  I  have  this  day  spoken, 
was  aided  in  my  own  soul  by  the  scenes  in  which  my  early 
life  was  passed."  * 

It  was  at  this  time,  also,  that  he  saw  much  of  the 
Kev.  Dr.  Hopkins,  and  received  deep  impressions  from 
the  influence  of  his  character  and  doctrines.  The  fol- 
lowing spirited  reminiscences,  communicated  in  a  letter 
to  Professor  Park  of  Andover,  present  a  very  pleasing 
sketch  of  that  consistent  seeker  after  truth  and  holi- 
ness, who,  whatever  his  speculative  errors,  was  at  least 
thoroughly  in  earnest. 

*   Works,  VoL  IV.,  p.  336. 


REV.    DR.    HOPKINS.  137 

"  It  was  not  until  I  had  left  college  that  I  became  ac- 
quainted with  him,  and  a  short  intercourse  dispelled  all  the 
fear  and  reserve  which  my  early  impressions  had  left  in 
my  mind.  His  conversation  was  free,  rather  abrupt,  blunt, 
and  often  facetious.  We  saw  at  once  that  he  had  lived  in 
his  study,  and  borrowed  very  little  from  the  manners  of  the 
fashionable  world.  He  took  pleasure  in  talking  with  me  of 
his  past  life,  his  controversies,  &c.,  and  I  regret  that  I  took 
no  notes,  and  did  not,  by  questions,  acquaint  myself  with 
the  progress  of  his  mind.  He  told  me,  I  think  more  than 

once,  of  his  first  intercourse  with ,  who  had  received 

Calvinism  in  its  old  forms.  resisted  his  doctrines 

relating  to  the  disinterested  character  of  faith  and  religion 
in  general.  At  length  his  objections  were  overcome,  and 
one  day,  bursting  into  tears,  he  told  Dr.  Hopkins  that  he 
was  conscious  that  he  had  never  experienced  true  religion. 
Dr.  Hopkins  also  gave  me  some  particulars  of  his  contro- 
versy with  Dr.  ,  in  which  it  was  plain  that  he  con- 
sidered himself  as  the  undoubted  conqueror.  I  exceed- 
ingly regret  that  I  did  not  learn  more  from  him  of  Presi- 
dent Edwards.  My  impression  is,  that  President  Edwards 
was  a  good  deal  indebted  to  Dr.  Hopkins  for  his  later  views 
of  religion,  especially  for  those  which  we  find  in  his  essays 
on  '  Virtue,'  and  on  '  God's  End  in  Creation.'  I  hope  you 
will  point  out  clearly  the  relation  between  these  eminent 
men.  Dr.  Hopkins  had  not  the  profound  genius  of  Ed- 
wards, but  was  he  not  a  man  of  a  freer  and  bolder 
mind? 

"  I  was  attached  to  Dr.  Hopkins  chiefly  by  his  theory  of 
disinterestedness.  I  had  studied  with  great  delight  during 
my  college  life  the  philosophy  of  Hutcheson  and  the  Sto- 
ical morality,  and  these  had  prepared  me  for  the  noble, 
self-sacrificing  doctrines  of  Dr.  Hopkins.  I  have  forgotten 
most  of  our  conversations  on  this  subject.  I  remember 
his  once  telling  me  that  he  did  not  consider  the  last  part 


138         STUDIES  AND  SETTLEMENT. 

of  1  Cor.  xiii.  as  referring  to  a  future  life ;  and  I  think 
that,  by  the  '  perfect '  which  was  to  '  come,'  he  understood 
the  revelation  of  disinterested  love  under  the  gospel.  One 
day,  a  relative  of  mine,  talking  with  him  about  the  text 
Rom.  ix.  3  ('  I  could  wish  myself  accursed  '),  observed  that 
the  passage  should  be  rendered  '  I  did  wish.'  Dr.  Hop- 
kins replied,  that  if  Paul  did  not  say  what  our  version 
ascribes  to  him,  he  ought  to  have  said  it.  The  idea  of  en- 
tire self-surrender  to  the  general  good  was  the  strongest  in 
his  mind.  How  far  he  founded  his  moral  system  on  the 
'  genera]  good  '  may  be  learned  best  from  a  tract  he  left  on 
the  subject,  which  Mrs.  Hopkins  put  into  my  hands  after 
his  death. 

"  He  was  very  true  to  his  doctrine  of  disinterestedness, 
as  far  as  money  was  concerned.  His  liberality  abounded 
in  his  deep  poverty.  One  day,  my  elder  brother  visited 
him  to  take  leave  of  him,  on  going  to  establish  himself  in 
another  town.  Dr.  Hopkins  said  to  him, — '  I  suppose  you 
hope  to  get  money.  Very  well.  Get  it  justly,  and  spend 
it  generously,  and  I  don't  care  how  much  you  get.'  Dr. 
Patten  told  me  that  once  at  a  meeting  of  ministers  the 
case  of  a  poor  widow  was  laid  before  them,  on  which  occa- 
sion Dr.  Hopkins  gave  all  he  had,  a  quarter  of  a  dollar. 
He  was  accustomed  to  say,  that  after  that  time  he  never 
knew  want,  and  was  able  to  commit  himself  without  doubt 
to  Providence.  It  was  my  habit,  in  the  years  1800  and 
1801,  to  attend  a  monthly  meeting  of  prayer  for  the  re- 
vival and  spread  of  religion.  Our  number  sometimes 
did  not  exceed  twenty  or  thirty.  Still,  a  collection  was 
taken  for  missionary  purposes,  and,  as  most  of  us  were 
very  poor,  our  contributions  did  not  greatly  exceed  the 
widow's  mite.  On  one  occasion,  as  I  have  heard  from  Dr. 
Patten,  however,  a  hundred-dollar  bill  appeared  in  the  box. 
Dr.  Hopkins  had  received  the  same  for  the  copyright  of  one 
of  his  books,  and  he  made  this  offer  at  a  time  when  he  re- 


DR.    HOPKINS  S   PREACHING.  139 

ceived  next  to  no  salary,  and  often,  as  I  understood,  de 
pended  for  his  dinner  on  the  liberality  of  a  parishioner. 

"  His  views  of  the  Divine  agency  and  sovereignty  were 
utterly  irreconcilable  with  human  freedom.  He  one  day 
said  to  me,  that  he  did  not  see  how  a  man  could  be  more 
active,  or  (as  I  understood  him)  more  a  free  agent,  than  in 
being  pleased  with  a  thing ;  and  in  the  last  sermon  I  heard 
from  him,  he  insisted  that  nothing  was  necessary  to  re- 
sponsibility but  that  a  man  should  do  as  he  pleased.  The 
origin  of  the  pleasure  or  volition  was  of  no  importance. 

"  His  preaching  can  only  be  understood  by  one  who  had 
heard  him.  His  voice  was  most  un tunable.  Some  of  the 
tones  approached  those  of  a  cracked  bell  more  nearly  than 
any  thing  to  which  I  can  compare  it.  He  changed  from  a 
low  to  a  high  key,  and  the  reverse,  with  no  apparent  reason. 
His  manner  was  without  animation.  His  matter,  as  far  as 
I  can  trust  my  memory,  was  not  made  acceptable  by  any 
adaptation  to  the  taste  of  the  hearer.  He  had  exercised  the 
severer  faculties  of  his  mind  too  much  to  give  a  fair  chance 
to  the  imagination.  He  had  no  relish  for  poetry,  and  spoke 
of  himself  as  finding  no  attraction  in  Milton  or  Shakspeare. 
If  his  style  was  clear  and  strong,  he  owed  these  qualities 
to  his  habits  of  thought,  and  not  to  any  study  of  the  best 
writers.  We  cannot  wonder,  then,  that  he  was  a  very  un- 
interesting preacher.  He  sometimes  ascribed  the  unfruit- 
fulness  of  his  ministry  to  other  causes,  and  seemed  to  see 
in  it  a  judgment  on  himself.  But  a  minister  who  has  not 
the  gift  to  win  attention  should  see  no  mystery  in  his  fail- 
ing to  do  good.  Dr.  Hopkins  was  a  student,  not  a  preacher. 
His  mind  was  habitually  employed  in  investigation,  and  he 
never  studied  the  art  of  communication.  With  an  unhar- 
monious  voice,  with  no  graces  of  manner  or  style,  and  with 
a  disposition  to  bring  forward  abstract  and  unpalatable  no- 
tions, is  it  wonderful  that  he  did  so  little  in  the  pulpit  ? 

"  His  preaching  had  much  naivete,  when  he  descended 


140  STUDIES    AND    SETTLEMENT. 

from  his  abstractions.  He  used  to  speak  without  circum- 
locution, and  in  a  plain,  conversational  way.  Once,  in 
preaching  at  Dr.  Patten's,  he  spoke  of  the  'loaves  and 
fishes  '  as  what  men  were  still  running  after ;  and  his 
simple,  blunt  manner  provoked  a  smile  from  some  of  his 
younger  hearers.  He  saw  it,  and  said,  '  You  may  smile, 
but  it  is  true.' 

"  He  was  an  intense  student.  I  have  learned  that  he 
studied  fourteen  hours  a  day.  He  told  me  that  once  he 
allowed  himself  only  four  hours'  sleep.  His  study  was 
visible  from  my  father's  house,  and  I  recollect,  that,  rising 
very  early  one  winter  morning,  I  saw  the  light  of  his  candle 
streaming  through  the  window.  He  took  little  exercise. 
His  frame  was  very  strong,  or  he  must  have  sunk  under 
his  labours. 

"  He  was  facetious  in  conversation.  I  preached  for  him 
once ;  and  after  the  service  in  the  pulpit,  he  smiled  on  me 
and  said,  '  The  hat  is  not  made  yet.'  On  my  asking  an 
explanation,  he  told  me  that  Dr.  Bellamy  used  to  speak  of 
theology  as  a  progressive  science,  and  compare  the  different 
stages  of  it  to  the  successive  processes  of  making  a  hat. 
The  beaver  was  to  be  born,  then  to  be  killed,  and  then  the 
felt  to  be  made,  &c.  Having  thus  explained  the  similitude, 
he  added,  '  The  hat  is  not  made,  and  I  hope  you  will  help 
to  finish  it.' 

"  His  views  of  the  times  were  dark.  I  one  day  told  him 
that  he  must  feel  encouraged  by  the  many  revivals  which 
were  taking  place.  He  replied,  that  these  would  only  con- 
tinue the  existence  of  the  church,  but  that  great  trials  were 
to  be  expected  before  its  triumphs.  He  gave  a  great  deal 
of  thought  to  prophecy,  and  was  supposed  to  have  a  pecu- 
liar gift  for  its  interpretation  ;  how  justly  I  cannot  say. 

"  Like  most  of  the  ministers  of  the  time,  he  was  a  strong 
Federalist,  and  was  greatly  grieved  by  the  political  heresy 
of  his  deacon,  almost  his  only  male  church-member ;  whom, 


STUART   THE    ATHEIST.  141 

however,  he  did  not  spare,  though  in  losing  him  he  would 
have  lost  the  only  officer  of  the  church. 

"  He  was  a  man  of  perfect  honesty,  and  he  loved  honesty 
in  others.  I  remember  his  giving  me  an  account  of  a 
council,  at  which  he  assisted,  for  ordination  of  a  candidate 
who  had  received  liberal  opinions  on  religion.  The  young 
man  made  no  secret  of  his  views,  which  were  exceedingly 
offensive  to  several  of  the  council.  He  answered  the 
questions  which  were  put  to  him  with  entire  frankness ; 
and  I  recollect  the  smile  of  complacency  with  which  Dr. 
Hopkins  spoke  of  his  honesty,  whilst  dissenting  from  his 
opinions. 

"  Dr.  Patten  told  me,  what  I  did  not  observe,  that  he 
attached  more  and  more  importance  to  his  opinions  as  he 
grew  old,  and  that  he  bore  opposition  less  patiently,  though 
Dr.  Patten,  who  was  his  disciple,  thought  him  not  at  all 
excessive  in  this  particular.  I  remember  hearing  of  a  se- 
vere rebuke  he  administered  to  a  Methodist  minister  for 
his  errors.  One  day,  Dr.  Hopkins  met  at  the  public  library 
a  singular  man  named  Stuart  or  Stewart,  sometimes  called 
'  the  walking  philosopher,'  in  consequence  of  his  having 
travelled  over  a  good  part  of  the  world  on  foot.  Stuart 
was  a  man  of  much  kindness,  too  kind  to  lay  his  weight  on 
a  horse,  or  to  eat  animal  food,  or  even  to  kill  a  musquito, 
when  sucking  his  blood ;  but  he  was  an  atheist,  and  let 
drop  some  expression  of  his  opinions  before  Dr.  Hopkins. 
The  Doctor  was  moved  to  indignation,  and  cried  out,  '  You 
fool !  were  it  not  for  God,  you  could  not  move  a  step  from 
where  you  stand.'  Stuart  replied  calmly  to  Dr.  Patten,  who 
was  present,  '  The  old  gentleman  seems  disturbed.' 

Dr.  Patten  told  me  that  Dr.  Hopkins  was  doubtful  as 
to  the  reality  of  his  religion.  He  clung  to  the  decrees, 
though,  for  aught  he  knew,  he  might  himself  be  decreed  to 
endless  misery.  I  suspect,  however,  that  his  doubt  was 
like  that  which  men  feel  as  to  their  living  through  the  day. 


142  STUDIES   AND    SETTLEMENT. 

He  was  habitually  cheerful,  though  I  once  saw  him  in  what 
seemed  to  me  deep  dejection.  I  was  with  him  the  day 
after  he  was  seized  with  his  last  sickness.  A  minister  pre- 
sent prayed  with  him,  and  for  the  continuance  of  his  life. 
When  the  prayer  was  finished,  Dr.  Hopkins  said  something 
to  this  effect : — '  You  should  not  have  asked  for  my  life. 
I  can  do  nothing  more.  It  is  time  for  me  to  go.'  He  could 
not  at  that  moment  have  been  distressed  by  doubts.  Per- 
haps these  were  the  last  words  I  heard  from  him. 

"  These  are  very  unimportant  reminiscences,  but  I  felt 
bound  to  contribute  what  I  could  to  his  biography.  The 
prominent  light  in  which  Dr.  Hopkins  is  to  be  placed  is 
that  of  a  student  seeking  the  glory  of  God  and  the  spread 
of  true  religion,  by  purifying  the  common  faith  of  its  errors, 
and  unfolding  the  Christian  system  in  its  harmony  and  true 
proportions.  He  had  many  qualities  fitting  him  for  a  re- 
former— great  singleness  of  purpose,  invincible  patience 
of  research,  sagacity  to  detect  and  courage  to  expose 
errors,  a  thirst  for  consistency  of  views,  and  resolution  to 
carry  out  his  principles  to  their  legitimate  consequences. 
I  consider  him  as  having  contributed  largely  to  the  more 
rational  form  in  which  Calvinism  is  held  among  us.  I  can- 
not judge  in  what  proportions  this  credit  is  to  be  divided 
between  him  and  President  Edwards,  and  I  shall  be  pleased 
to  be  enlightened  on  this  point  in  your  biography.  I  indeed 
shrink  with  a  feeling  approaching  horror  from  some  of  his 
doctrines ;  but  do  not  on  that  account  withhold  the  reverence 
due  to  his  character." 

The  generous  and  discriminating  notice  of  Dr.  Hop- 
kins given  by  Dr.  Channing,  in  his  Sermon  at  the 
Dedication  of  the  Unitarian  Church  in  Newport*, 
should  be  read  in  connection  with  these  reminiscences 
by  all  who  would  fully  understand  the  relation  between 

Works,  Vol.  IV.,  p.  341. 


RETURN    TO    CAMBRIDGE.  143 

this  venerable  man  and  his  young  friend.  He  there 
says : — "  I  need  not  be  ashamed  to  confess  the  deep 
impression  which  his  system  made  on  my  youthful 
mind.  I  am  grateful  to  this  stern  teacher  for  turning 
my  thoughts  and  heart  to  the  claims  and  majesty  of 
impartial,  universal  benevolence." 

In  December,  1801,  Mr.  Channing  was  elected  to 
the  office  of  Kegent  in  Harvard  University,  a  situation 
in  every  way  most  desirable,  as  it  gave  him  support 
while  pursuing  his  studies — exacted  only  the  slight 
duty  of  preserving  order  in  the  building  where  he  re- 
sided, and  of  exercising  a  general  superintendence  over 
the  young  men — brought  him  into  the  immediate 
neighbourhood  of  the  valuable  library  of  the  college 
— and,  though  separating  him  from  his  family,  reunited 
him  to  his  elder  brother.  He  returned  to  Cambridge 
in  the  early  part  of  the  year  1802 ;  and  his  appearance, 
manner,  and  character  at  this  period  are  thus  described 
by  his  college  friend,  Judge  White. 

"  At  that  time,  I  remember,  my  impression  was,  that  a 
greater  change  had  passed  over  him  during  the  few  years 
of  his  absence,  than  I  was  prepared  to  expect.  Instead 
of  the  firm,  elastic  step  and  animated  manner  which 
used  to  distinguish  him,  he  appeared  somewhat  debilitated 
by  ill  health,  and  was  more  remarkable  than  formerly  for 
gentleness  and  a  serious  air  and  tone  of  conversation.  I 
had  thought  of  him  as  peculiarly  qualified  for  eminence  in 
the  legal  profession,  and  was  struck  with  some  surprise  on 
finding  that  he  had  no  ambition  for  any  such  distinction. 
But  I  soon  perceived  how  much  more  elevated  was  his  am- 
bition. His  whole  soul  was  engaged  in  the  sacred  studies 
to  which  he  had  devoted  himself,  and  he  at  once  showed 
that  he  had  already  become  what  St.  Paul  charged  Timothy 


144  STUDIES    AND    SETTLEMENT. 

to  be, — '  an  example  in  word,  in  conversation,  in  charity, 
in  spirit,  in  faith,  in  purity.'  His  wisdom,  goodness,  and 
sanctity,  as  well  as  his  genius  and  intellectual  powers,  were 
strongly  developed ;  and  I  began  to  feel  in  his  company, 
what  only  increased  upon  me  afterwards,  a  mingled  affec- 
tion and  respect,  approaching  to  awe,  which  the  presence 
of  no  other  man  ever  inspired  in  the  same  degree. 

"  In  the  spring  vacation  of  that  year,  being  myself  con- 
nected with  the  University,  I  had  the  measles  badly  at  my 
room  in  college,  and  I  have  always  remembered  him  as  a 
comforting  angel  in  my  forlorn  condition.  As  expressed  by 
me  at  the  time, — '  I  suffered  nothing  from  want  of  atten- 
tion, &c.  William  Channing  watched  with  me,  besides 
bringing  me  nice  things  as  proofs  of  the  ladies'  remem- 
brance. He  has  himself  all  the  softness  and  delicacy  of 
manner  in  attending  to  the  sick  which  would  become  a 
woman.'  This  but  feebly  represents  the  impression  which 
his  tender  and  assiduous  care  made  upon  me,  and  which  I 
could  never  forget.  A  China  cup,  in  which  he  brought 
some  of  the  '  nice  things,'  being  left  at  my  room,  has  been 
preserved  as  a  precious  memorial  of  his  kindness,  and  is 
still  among  the  first  objects  to  greet  my  eye  in  the  morning, 
and  to  awaken  delightful  associations  connected  with  him, 
— associations  which  can  hardly  fail  to  have  a  salutary  in- 
fluence through  the  day.  The  agreeable  and  generous 
manner  in  which  all  his  favours  were  conferred  added  to 
their  intrinsic  value  a  charm  which  made  the  remembrance 
of  them  peculiarly  grateful.  Such  instances  of  kindness, 
however  common  they  may  have  been,  are  worthy  of  notice, 
as  illustrations  of  his  character,  and  of  the  genuineness  and 
extent  of  his  benevolence.  He  always  seemed  actuated  by 
the  same  sincere  and  elevated  Christian  love,  manifesting 
it  in  his  whole  manner,  and  in  all  his  social  intercourse, 
extending  the  same  cordial  greeting  to  those  who  were 
entitled  to  it,  whether  he  met  them  in  solitude  or  in  society, 


PROFESSOR   TAPPAN.  145 

among  the  humble,  or  in  the  presence  of  high  dignitaries. 
The  imposing  presence  of  official  greatness,  which  might 
make  some  persons  forgetful  of  humbler  friends,  never 
appeared  to  influence  him  in  the  slightest  degree.  His 
own  great  mind  was  above  the  ordinary  effect  of  such  cir- 
cumstances, and  it  cost  him  no  effort  to  be  faithful  to  his 
convictions  of  the  inherent  dignity  of  man's  nature,  and  to 
carry  out  his  principles  in  all  his  conduct." 

In  relation  to  his  theological  studies,  and  the  oppor- 
tunities offered  to  him  at  Harvard,  the  same  friend  gives 
the  following  account:  — 

"  When  he  was  pursuing  his  professional  studies  at  the 
University,  we  must  remember  that  his  advantages  were 
very  different  from  those  now  enjoyed  there  by  the  students 
in  divinity.  At  that  time  the  means  of  theological  instruc- 
tion were  comparatively  meagre ;  yet  they  were  doubtless 
superior  to  what  could  be  expected  from  the  tuition  of  any 
clergyman  unconnected  with  the  University,  and  greater  to 
Mr.  Channing  than  to  other  resident  graduates  engaged  in 
the  like  studies.  President  Willard,  I  well  remember,  in 
speaking  of  the  Regent's  office,  told  me  that  one  of  his 
views  in  recommending  its  establishment  was  to  afford  an 
eligible  situation  for  some  worthy  student  in  divinity,  who 
might  l>e  induced  by  it  to  pursue  his  studies  at  Cambridge. 
I  have  no  doubt  that  Mr.  Channing  found  it  an  eligible 
situation,  and  with  his  peculiar  qualifications  for  self-direc- 
tion, and  his  strong  turn  of  mind  for  an  independent  course 
of  study  and  inquiry,  that  he  made  greater  proficiency  than 
is  now  common,  even  with  distinguished  scholars,  who  en- 
joy the  higher  privileges  afforded  by  the  Theological  Insti- 
tution. President  Willard  and  Professor  Tappan,  both  of 
them  able  and  learned  divines,  were  constantly  accessible 
for  advice  and  assistance,  in  addition  to  the  interesting 

VOL.   I.  H 


146         STUDIES  AND  SETTLEMENT. 

public  lectures  of  the  latter,  who  was  then  also  delivering 
his  course  upon  the  Jewish  Antiquities." 

Of  Professor  Tappan,  the  Kev.  Dr.  Pierce  writes  as 
follows : — 

"  You  may  know  Mr.  Channing's  opinion  of  him  by  the 
fact,  that  he  had  him  to  preach  his  ordination  sermon.  He 
was  considered  a  moderate  Calvinist,  which  the  Rev.  John 
Dippon  of  Taunton  used  to  say  'is  a  contradiction  in  terms.' 
Dr.  Tappan  was  as  impartial  a  divine  as  I  ever  knew, 
extremely  cautious  not  to  prepossess  the  minds  of  his 
pupils,  and  always  exhorting  them  to  judge  for  themselves. 
It  is  well  known  that  there  was  a  strong  mutual  attachment 
between  the  professor  and  his  distinguished  pupil.  Dr. 
Tappan  was  not  only  one  of  the  most  popular  divines  who 
entered  our  pulpits,  but  such  men  as  George  Cabot,  Fisher 
Ames,  Judge  Lowell,  did  not  hesitate  to  pronounce  him  one 
of  the  best  preachers  of  the  day." 

Judge  White  thus  continues : — 

"  The  College  library,  with  others  to  which  Mr.  Channing 
had  access,  afforded  the  books  which  he  needed,  and  which 
no  one  better  than  himself  knew  how  to  use.  He  read 
them  for  knowledge  and  for  truth,  not  to  form  or  confirm 
opinions.  No  writers  had  authority  with  him  in  matters  of 
faith  beyond  the  force  of  their  evidence  and  arguments.  I 
still  remember  the  freedom  of  his  remarks  and  criticisms 
on  works  of  high  reputation,  by  the  impression  they  gave 
me  of  his  independence  of  mind  in  judging  for  himself. 
The  celebrated  Dr.  Hopkins,  of  Newport,  founder  of  the 
system  of  divinity  which  then  bore  his  name,  seemed  to 
have  more  authority  with  him  than  any  other  divine,  but  I 
am  satisfied  it  was  rather  owing  to  the  influence  of  his 
virtues  than  to  the  weight  of  his  opinions." 

Mr.  Channing's  course  of  theological  studies  is  not 


ENGLISH   THEOLOGY.  147 

known.  Obviously,  however,  it  could  not  have  been 
such  as  would  now  be  considered  at  all  thorough,  for 
the  new  era  in  theology  opened  by  the  great  students 
of  Germany  had  scarcely  dawned, — and  with  the  few 
good  books  at  his  command  he  must  have  received  but 
slight  guidance  in  the  "  enchanted  wood,  where  it  is 
hard  to  distinguish  truth  from  falsehood,  and  whose 
maze  requires  more  than  an  Ariadne's  clew,"  as  Jortin 
well  said  of  ecclesiastical  history*.  But  his  general 
impressions  of  English  theology,  formed  undoubtedly 
in  part  at  that  period, — though,  as  will  be  perceived, 
some  of  the  works  spoken  of  have  been  published  since 
that  time, — may  be  learned  from  the  following  letter, 
written  long  subsequently  to  a  German  friend.  These 
brief  criticisms,  which  are  but  a  confirmation  of  thoughts 
already  expressed  by  him  in  his  Review  of  Fenelonf, 
will  give  the  best,  though  confessedly  a  very  imperfect, 
notion  of  his  taste  and  judgment  in  theological  literature. 
Plainly  he  found  but  little  satisfaction  in  the  writers  to 
whom  he  had  access. 

"I  fear  you  think  I  have  forgotten  my  promise  to  send 
you  a  list  of  the  best  theological  works  in  our  language. 
But  the  task  is  more  difficult  than  you  imagine.  Had  you 
asked  for  a  catalogue  of  the  most  prominent  commentators 
and  polemics,  I  could  have  furnished  it  at  once.  But  you 
wanted,  if  I  understood  you,  to  know  something  of  those 
writers  who  had  given  such  enlarged  views  of  Christianity 
as  an  enlightened  and  philosophic  mind  might  read  with 
interest  and  profit,  and  such  writers  are  not  very  common. 

"  English  theology  seems  to  me,  on  the  whole,  of  little 
worth.  An  established  church  is  the  grave  of  intellect. 

*  Jortin's  Remarks  on  Ecclesiastical  History,  Pref.,  p.  vi. 
f  Works,  Vol.  I.,  pp.  167-174. 

H2 


148  STUDIES   AND    SETTLEMENT. 

To  impose  a  fixed,  unchangeable  creed  is  to  raise  prison- 
walls  around  the  mind;  and  when  the  reception  of  this 
creed  is  made  a  condition  of  dignities  and  rich  benefices,  it 
produces  moral  as  well  as  intellectual  degradation,  and 
palsies  the  conscience  as  much  as  it  fetters  thought.  Once 
make  antiquity  a  model  for  all  future  ages,  and  fasten  on 
the  mind  a  system  too  sacred  for  examination,  and  beyond 
which  it  must  not  stray,  and  in  extinguishing  its  hope  of 
progress  you  take  away  its  life.  One  almost  wonders  that 
the  intellect  has  advanced  as  far  and  as  fast  as  it  has  done, 
when  one  considers  the  war  waged  against  it  by  civil  and 
ecclesiastical  power,  and  the  heavy  chain  under  which  it 
has  been  compelled  to  move.  I  conceive  that  the  tame- 
ness,  frigidness,  and  dulness  by  which  theological  writings 
are  so  generally  marked  are  to  be  attributed  chiefly  to  the 
cause  now  stated.  The  intellect,  paralyzed  by  authority 
and  established  creeds,  has  discovered  less  energy  in  treat- 
ing that  sublimest  and  most  exciting  of  all  subjects,  religion, 
than  in  discussing  the  most  ordinary  interests  of  the  present 
life.  In  England,  the  Established  Church  has  been  a 
dozing  place  to  minds  which  anywhere  else  would  have 
signalized  themselves ;  and  unhappily  Dissent  in  that 
kingdom  began  in  a  bigoted  attachment  to  Calvinism, 
which,  by  exciting  the  mind,  did  occasionally  call  forth 
much  energy  of  thought,  but  which  still,  by  infusing  unjust 
and  degrading  views  of  God  and  of  human  nature,  may  be 
regarded  as  on  the  whole  unfavourable  to  the  progress  of 
intellect.  I  think,  therefore,  that  there  is  little  in  English 
theology  to  repay  the  attention  or  meet  the  wants  of  an  en- 
lightened mind.  You  will  not  often  find  broad  views  of 
Christianity,  showing  its  harmony  with  human  nature,  and 
with  the  great  laws  of  the  universe,  as  far  as  we  understand 
them,  and  its  tendency  to  secure  the  true  perfection  of  the 
individual  and  the  race.  You  will  seldom  find  that  union 
of  reason  and  enthusiasm,  without  which  a  system  is  essen- 


ENGLISH   THEOLOGY.  149 

tially  defective  in  correspondence  to  the  human  soul. 
Still,  there  are  powerful  thinkers  in  this  department  of 
literature,  as  in  all  others ;  and  I  will  name  to  you  a  few 
books  which  I  think  will  interest  you. 

"  Butler's  Analogy  is  one  of  the  noblest  productions  of 
the  mind,  and  deserves  to  stand  at  the  head  of  the  list ;  and 
his  Sermons,  although  too  abstruse  for  that  species  of  com- 
position, are  among  the  finest  ethical  discussions.  Lard- 
ner's  Credibility  is  a  work  of  immense  labour  and  research, 
distinguished  by  accuracy,  candour,  and  sagacity,  but  too 
voluminous  for  a  general  reader.  You  will  find  an  abstract 
of  it  in  Paley's  Evidences,  the  best  view,  I  presume,  in  any 
language,  of  the  proofs  of  our  religion.  Paley's  Horae 
Paulinae  is,  perhaps,  the  most  original  work  on  the  evi- 
dences of  Christianity  of  our  times,  being  strictly  a  dis- 
covery where  nothing  original  was  expected,  and  furnishing 
an  argument  which  derives  strength  from  the  very  circum- 
stance of  its  long  concealment.  To  these  books  on  the 
proofs  of  Christianity  may  be  added  Campbell  on  Miracles, 
Douglas's  Criterion,  Watson's  Answers  to  Gibbon  and 
Paine,  Priestley's  Letters  to  a  Philosophical  Unbeliever, 
Priestley's  Sermon  on  the  Resurrection,  and  Robert  Hall's 
Sermon  on  Infidelity.  In  this  connection  Farmer  on 
Miracles  deserves  to  be  read,  and  his  book  on  Demoniacs 
bears  on  the  same  subject.  Campbell's  translation  of  the 
Gospels,  and  especially  the  preliminary  dissertations,  are 
highly  and  justly  valued.  Wakefield's  translation  of  the 
New  Testament  is  in  high  repute.  Law's  Theory  of  Religion 
is  the  best  view  I  know  of  the  history  and  progress  of 
religion.  The  second  volume  of  Hartley's  Observations  on 
Man  is  on  the  whole  an  admirable  work,  disfigured,  indeed, 
by  a  gross  mechanical  philosophy  of  the  mind,  but  full  of 
useful  and  exalting  views  of  religion  and  duty.  Locke's 
Reasonableness  of  Christianity  is  worthy  of  its  author, 
being  chiefly  intended  to  show  the  essential  objects  of 


]50  STUDIES    AND    SETTLEMENT. 

Christian  faith,  or  what  that  faith  is  which,  as  far  as  opinion 
or  speculation  is  concerned,  constitutes  a  man  a  Christian, 
and  to  refute  indirectly  the  common  sectarian  notions  on 
this  subject.  We  have  produced  in  this  country  a  meta- 
physician, Edwards,  whose  work  on  the  Will  has  seldom, 
if  ever,  been  surpassed  in  acuteness.  He  was  the  advocate 
of  necessity.  The  doctrine  of  free-will  has  found  a  very 
able  advocate  in  Dr.  Samuel  Clarke.  Newcome's  Observa- 
tions on  the  Character  of  our  Lord  is  not  a  work  of  genius, 
but  is  one  of  the  best  summaries  of  Christ's  teaching,  and 
gives  a  minute  analysis  of  his  character.  Lowth's  Lectures 
on  Hebrew  Poetry,  though  written  originally  in  Latin,  be- 
longs to  English  literature,  and  was  thought  worthy  of  a 
commentary  by  Michaelis. 

"  Under  the  head  of  Christian  evidences,  I  forgot  a  work 
by  our  countryman,  Mr.  Verplanck,  which  I  think  has  great 
merit.  I  find,  on  looking  back,  too,  that  I  have  omitted 
two  other  authors  on  this  subject,  who  are  worthy  your 
attention, — Leland  on  the  Necessity  of  Revelation,  valu- 
able for  its  learning,  and  Chalmers's  Evidences,  a  book 
very  deficient  in  comprehensive  views  of  the  subject,  but 
singularly  forcible  in  illustrating  particular  branches  of  it. 

"  The  best  sermons  are  those  of  Jeremy  Taylor,  Barrow, 
Sherlock,  Horsley,  Price,  Robert  Hall,  and  Buckminster 
of  this  country.  In  Sherlock  you  will  find  an  able  exposi- 
tion of  scepticism,  as  it  manifested  itself  in  his  age. 

"  In  practical  theology  the  most  striking  work  which  I 
remember  is  Law's  Serious  Call  to  a  Holy  Life — a  book  of 
ascetic  character,  and  smelling  of  the  cloister,  but  often 
forcible  in  its  appeals,  and  original  in  its  illustrations. 
Two  books  of  a  miscellaneous  character  deserve  to  be  men- 
tioned,— Price's  Dissertations  and  John  Foster's  Essays  ; 
the  former  uniting  with  strong  and  just  thinking  a  mild, 
serene,  exalted  piety, — and  the  latter,  though  perhaps  re- 
pulsive to  a  foreigner  by  frequent  involutions  and  obscurities 


HABIT   OF   WRITING.  151 

of  style,  yet  abounding  in  felicities  and  energies  of  expres- 
sion, as  well  as  in  fresh  and  vigorous  conception. 

"  I  have  said  nothing  of  three  authors  of  great  name, — 
Hooker,  the  author  of  Ecclesiastical  Polity,  Cudworth, 
whose  chief  work  is  entitled  The  Intellectual  System  of 
the  Universe,  and  Chillingworth,  the  champion  of  Pro- 
testantism against  the  Catholics.  The  truth  is, — though  I 
almost  blush  to  acknowledge  it, — I  have  not  read  them, 
and  know  them  only  by  report. 

"  The  Puritans,  from  whom  we  of  New  England  are  de- 
scended, boast  of  three  writers  who  would  do  honour  to  any 
cause, — Howe,  Owen,  and  Baxter ;  but  their  works,  though 
furnishing  proofs  of  great  power  and  deep  piety,  are  too 
disfigured  by  a  technical  theology  to  be  read  much  except 
by  professed  theologians. 

"Coleridge  has  just  formed  a  book  of  extracts  from 
Leigh  ton's  works,  accompanied  by  notes  from  himself;  and 
should  the  work  ever  appear,  I  doubt  not  that  it  will  be 
very  valuable;  for  Coleridge's  genius  is  known  to  you,  and 
Leighton  was  a  rare  union  of  learning,  imagination,  and  a 
celestial  spirit. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  I  have  not  been  able  to  speak  more 
favourably  of  English  theology ;  and  I  wish  you  to  under- 
stand that  the  opinion  of  the  majority  is  against  me,  and 
that  were  I  to  publish  what  I  have  written,  I  should  be 
charged  with  gross  injustice.  But  I  must  write  what  I 
believe." 

A  friend,  who  was  much  with  Mr.  Charming  at  the 
period  of  his  life  which  we  are  now  considering,  has  the 
impression  that  his  time  was  more  occupied  in  writing 
than  in  reading.  And  his  remaining  papers  give  every 
reason  to  believe  that  he  had  already  formed  his  pecu- 
liar habit  of  following  out  a  train  of  thought  pen  in 
hand.  Writing  was  with  him,  as  he  often  said,  the  one 


152  STUDIES   AND    SETTLEMENT. 

great  means  of  making  clear  to  himself  his  own  thoughts. 
New  suggestions  were  noted;  contradictory  views  placed 
side  hy  side;  qualifications  and  exceptions  carefully 
stated  under  the  admitted  principles  to  which  they  re- 
ferred ;  broad,  general  views  given  of  whole  subjects  ; 
particular  conclusions  succinctly  recorded ;  and  thus 
gradually,  from  a  main  root,  a  whole  series  of  truths 
branched  out  and  divided  itself  into  its  large  classifica- 
tions and  minuter  bearings.  He  early  acquired  these 
habits  of  methodical  thinking ;  and  all  principles  and 
facts  grouped  themselves  into  an  order,  which  was  the 
farthest  possible  from  a  mere  mechanical  arrangement, 
and  which  was  ever  unfolding  under  the  organizing 
power  of  his  spirit.  This  exactness  of  mind  should  be 
carefully  heeded  by  all  who  would  trace  aright  Mr. 
Channing's  after  progress  as  a  theologian,  and  a  reli- 
gious and  social  reformer.  For  what  might  often  have 
seemed  to  those  little  acquainted  with  the  laws  of  his 
inward  nature  like  timidity  or  slowness,  was  actually  but 
the  working  of  his  unappeasable  desire  to  obtain  such 
a  view  of  any  subject  as  should  have  coherent  wholeness 
in  itself,  and  be  in  unity  with  other  views  which  he 
regarded  as  established.  Already  he  was  thus  cautiously 
and  patiently  investigating  the  great  problems, — as  to 
the  Divine  Being  and  Character, — Human  Nature,  its 
destiny  and  duties, — Christ  and  Christianity, — Society 
and  its  various  relations, — to  the  solution  of  which  his 
after  life  was  consecrated.  Already  he  had  reached  the 
fountain-head  of  those  rivers  of  thought,  whose  course 
he  was  to  explore  and  trace  to  their  mouths.  And  the 
truly  important  part  of  his  theological  education  was 
this  process  of  spiritual  discipline,  by  which  he  was 
learning  to  concentrate  his  whole  energy  of  will  and 


FAVOURITE    AUTHORS.  153 

thought  upon  suhlime  objects,  until  they  inspired  him 
with  their  grandeur,  filled  him  with  new  desires  for 
good,  enlarged  his  powers  of  feeling  and  comprehension, 
fixed  his  reverent  regard,  and,  through  doubts  and 
hopes,  perplexities  and  mental  conflicts,  brought  him 
up  at  length  to  the  mount  of  vision,  and  to  intercourse 
with  God  and  the  supernatural  world.  It  was  a  process 
in  which  piety,  conscientiousness,  scientific  thinking, 
imagination,  humanity,  and  love  of  beauty  were  blended, 
to  lift  him  into  communion  with  spiritual  realities.  A  dis- 
tinct intuition  of  these  spiritual  realities,  and  an  abiding 
consciousness  of  the  mysterious  yet  substantial,  and  at 
once  awful  and  loving  ministries,  by  which  man's  exist- 
ence upon  earth  is  enveloped  and  pervaded,  were  the  one 
result  of  his  inward  training  which  made  him  so  influ- 
ential as  a  religious  teacher.  He  had  attained  to  that 
living,  transforming,  renewing  faith,  whose  principle  is 
Divine  love  working  in  us  —  whose  fruit  is  love  to 
man. 

No  authors  probably  aided  him  much  in  this  travail- 
ing to  give  birth  to  great  thoughts  conceived  by  the 
spirit.  But  two  of  the  writers  mentioned  in  the  fore- 
going letter  were  so  often  and  so  gratefully  referred  to 
by  him,  —  besides  Hutcheson,  Ferguson,  and  Price, 
whose  influence  has  already  been  described,  —  as  to 
prove  that  they  did  something  to  determine  at  this 
period  the  current  of  his  thoughts.  The  first,  and  by 
far  the  most  useful  to  him,  was  Butler,  whose  Sermons 
on  Human  Nature  he  regarded  as  unsurpassed  in 
English  for  clear,  full,  condensed  thought,  and  to  which 
may  be  traced,  perhaps,  the  germs  of  some  of  his  most 
important  views.  And  the  second  was  Law,  whose 
mystic  piety  and  earnest  longing  for  spiritual  perfection 

H  3 


154  STUDIES   AND    SETTLEMENT. 

touched  harmoniously  many  chords  of  his  religious 
sympathy,  although  he  felt  that  his  temper  was  in  other 
respects  gloomy  and  narrow.  He  spoke  with  much 
respect,  too,  of  Edwards,  whose  energy  of  intellect  he 
greatly  admired,  while  denying  the  soundness  of  his 
doctrine  of  necessity,  and  utterly  rejecting  its  conclu- 
sions ;  many  of  whose  writings  he  thought  suggestive 
of  deeply  interesting  views  of  the  spiritual  relations  be- 
tween the  Divine  Being  and  man,  while  he  was  horror- 
struck  at  the  theology  of  others  ;  and  whose  sketch  of 
his  conversion  he  once  read  in  part  to  a  friend,  with  a 
voice  trembling  in  its  tenderness  and  eyes  softened  with 
emotion,  as  being  one  of  the  most  pathetic  and  beauti- 
ful sketches  ever  given  of  the  deeper  workings  of  the 
soul*. 

His  habits  as  a  student  may  be  partially  illustrated 
by  the  following  extracts  from  his  private  manuscripts 
of  that  period.  They  show  the  earnestness  with  which 
he  was  seeking  to  control  his  intellect  and  to  direct  it 
to  the  highest  objects. 

"  It  is  easy  to  read,  but  hard  to  think.  Without  think- 
ing, we  cannot  make  the  sentiments  of  others  our  own. 
Thinking  alone  adopts  them  into  our  family.  It  is  my 
misfortune,  that  I  have  read  much,  but  have  reflected  little. 
Let  me  reverse  this  order.  I  prefer  strength  of  impres- 
sion to  superficial  knowledge,  however  extensive." 

"  We  are  very  apt  to  think  we  have  ideas,  when  we  have 
only  words.  We  mistake  synonymes  for  definitions.  I 
have  often  found  rich  ideas  by  analyzing  words,  particularly 
when  they  are  metaphorical.  Words  should  never  be  used 
in  a  loose  sense.  We  are  apt  to  be  led  astray  by  imperfect 

*  Edwards's  Works,  Vol.  I.,  p.  35. 


RULES    FOR   STUDY.  155 

analogies,  particularly  in  reasoning  on  the  nature  of  Deity. 
It  has  been  well  observed,  that,  when  beginning  a  subject, 
we  should  consider  the  degree  of  evidence  to  which  we 
should  yield  our  assent." 

"  In  pursuit  of  truth,  I  should  possess  indefatigable  pa- 
tience and  invincible  perseverance.  Have  I  not  embraced 
errors  to  avoid  the  toil  of  inquiry  ?  Let  me  read  no  en- 
feebling productions,  but  such  poetry  and  works  of  fancy 
only  as  will  tend  to  strengthen  the  purposes  and  elevate 
the  feelings  of  my  soul.  I  wish  to  acquire  a  calm  energy, 
a  strong  principle  of  love  and  independence.  Let  me 
kindle  a  fire  in  my  heart  at  the  altars  of  religion,  bene- 
volence, and  nature." 

"  I  often  find  my  mind  confused;  a  thousand  indistinct 
ideas  distract  it.  In  such  cases,  it  would  be  best  to  snap 
the  chain  of  thought  at  once,  to  leave  my  books  for  a  sea- 
son, and  to  return  back  to  the  first  step  of  the  argument. 
In  all  my  studies  I  should  pray  for  the  Divine  blessing. 
There  are  periods  when  the  mind  is  indisposed  to  serious 
study,  when  it  sympathizes  with  a  suffering  body,  when  its 
tone  is  destroyed,  and  its  powers  require  relaxation.  But 
we  should  distinguish  natural  infirmity  from  that  indolence 
which  grows  by  indulgence,  and  which  one  vigorous  ex- 
ertion would  drive  away.  It  is  desirable,  and  I  think  it 
possible,  to  acquire  a  conquest  over  the  former  weaknesses 
of  nature.  May  we  not  form  a  habit  of  attention  which 
pain  itself  cannot  distract?  Do  I  not  too  often  apologize 
for  indolence,  by  attributing  it  to  bodily  indisposition? 
Let  me  check  that  roving  habit,  which  I  have  indulged,  of 
reading  a  thousand  trifles — a  habit  by  which  the  tone  of 
the  mind  is  destroyed,  until  we  turn  with  loathing  from 
wholesome  studies.  Regularity  and  order  are  essential; 
and  when  I  have  formed  a  plan,  let  me  submit  to  many  in- 
conveniences rather  than  swerve  from  it." 

"  I  have  hitherto  confused  my  mind  by  indiscriminate 


J56  STUDIES    AND    SETTLEMENT. 

reading.  I  wish  to  obtain  clearness  of  conception,  a  simple 
mode  of  considering  objects.  I  should  be  careful  at  first 
in  separating  from  a  subject  every  thing  foreign  to  it,  and 
place  it  in  as  distinct  a  light  as  possible.  After  I  have  left 
my  books  for  relaxation,  I  must  ease  my  mind  of  a  load  of 
thought,  and  leave  it  to  calm  enjoyment." 

"  It  is  always  best  to  think  first  for  ourselves  on  any 
subject,  and  then  to  have  recourse  to  others  for  the  cor- 
rection or  improvement  of  our  own  sentiments.  Thus  we 
may  reach  truth  which  we  should  never  have  observed,  had 
we  caught  a  particular  mode  of  thinking  from  any  author. 
No  principles  should  be  received  from  education  and  habit 
merely.  Let  me  observe,  before  perusing  the  opinions  of 
observers.  We  check  original  thought  by  first  learning 
how  and  what  to  think  from  others.  The  strength  of  others 
should  be  called  in  only  to  assist  our  weakness,  not  to  pre- 
vent the  exertion  of  our  own  powers.  By  means  of  this 
dependence  on  books,  error,  as  well  as  truth,  descends  in 
hereditary  succession.  The  sources  of  original  thought  are 
dried  up,  and  the  mind  is  overflowed  by  foreign  streams 
derived  through  channels  which  other  men  have  formed. 
Self-dependence  in  science  is  the  road  to  useful  truth. 
The  quantity  of  knowledge  thus  gained  may  be  less,  but 
the  quality  will  be  superior.  Truth  received  on  au- 
thority, or  acquired  without  labour,  makes  but  a  feeble  im- 
pression." 

"  Whenever  hypotheses  are  to  be  formed,  let  me  first 
set  down  the  facts  on  which  they  must  be  grounded,  and 
weigh  them  carefully.  It  would  be  advisable  to  form  a 
blank  book  merely  for  the  insertion  of  those  truths  to 
which  I  assent ;  and  it  would  be  useful  to  revise  whatever 
I  have  hitherto  taken  for  granted,  and  judge  it  impartially. 
Let  me  beware,  lest  a  love  of  originality  lead  me  astray. 
Ambition  is  as  fatal  as  prejudice.  Love  of  truth  is  the 
only  principle  which  should  influence  us ;  and  those  truths 


RULES    FOR   STUDY.  157 

which  will  have  influence  on  life  are  alone  worthy  of  pre- 
sent attention.  I  was  born  for  action.  My  object  is  to  do 
good  to  the  world  by  promoting  the  cause  of  religion,  as 
well  as  to  advance  myself  in  religion.  A  life  of  constant 
action  and  unwearied  exertion  excludes  universal  know- 
ledge. The  improvement  of  the  heart  is  infinitely  more 
important  than  the  enlargement  of  the  understanding.  I 
hope  for  immortality  in  heaven,  not  immortal  fame  on 
earth.  I  therefore  wish  to  have  a  few  important  truths 
impressed  deeply  on  my  mind,  rather  than  to  be  lost  in 
that  chaos  of  universal  knowledge  which  has  hitherto  dis- 
tracted me.  Knowledge  is  only  a  means.  Let  me  not 
make  it  the  end.  Abstruse  speculations  on  useless  subjects 
will  but  waste  my  time." 

"  As  I  find  myself  full  of  prejudices  on  the  subject  of 
government  and  politics,  I  will  lay  them  aside  for  a  year ; 
and  let  me  not  even  talk  on  them,  except  with  intimate 
friends.  History  I  will  lay  aside  for  the  same  time.  Let 
me  learn  to  be  silent  on  subjects  where  I  am  ignorant." 

"  I  must  be  very  careful,  lest,  when  my  heart  is  warmed, 
I  should  be  disposed  to  receive  without  examination  the 
errors  of  enthusiasm  for  Christian  truth.  I  fear  that  I  am 
prejudiced  in  favour  of  some  doctrines,  and  there  is  danger 
of  my  bending  Scripture  to  my  preconceived  opinions. 
Let  me  always  pray  for  impartiality,  and  strive  to  read 
without  prejudice.  I  should  also  try  to  acquire  a  spirit  of 
moderation  from  the  Bible,  instead  of  that  narrowness  of 
sentiment  which  is  creeping  upon  me.  Let  me  study 
Scripture  without  any  ambitious  views  of  striking  out  a 
new  system,  or  of  shining  by  ingenuity.  Plain  truth  is 
worth  far  more  than  the  splendid  speculations  of  philo- 
sophical divines." 

"  Conversation  on  religious  subjects  will  be  highly  im- 
proving, if  I  keep  my  heart  open  to  conviction,  if  I  strive 
to  obtain  truth,  if  I  can  listen  with  patience  and  without 


158         STUDIES  AND  SETTLEMENT. 

interrupting  the  speaker,  and  if  I  feel  a  desire  to  learn 
and  not  to  shine.  In  these  conversations  I  must  not  make 
a  show  of  my  religion,  and  of  my  religious  feelings.  I 
must  make  no  noise  about  my  experience ;  and,  in  fact,  it 
would  be  best  to  omit  the  word  '  I '  in  discourse." 

"  I  am  so  much  afraid  of  being  led  astray  by  human 
systems,  that  I  wish  to  conform  myself  wholly  to  the  Bible. 
Let  me  read  it  with  the  docility  and  simplicity  of  a  child, 
sensible  of  my  blindness  and  praying  for  light.  Let  me 
be  fearless  of  consequences  in  pursuing  the  truth,  and  strive 
to  keep  in  view  the  connection  which  binds  together  the 
sacred  writings.  Let  me  read  them,  not  with  a  view  to 
speculate,  but  to  learn  the  will  of  my  Lord  and  Master. 
Let  me  contemplate  liis  character,  have  his  example  ever 
before  my  eyes,  learn  of  his  life  as  well  as  of  his  words, 
and  strive  to  be  assimilated  to  so  perfect  a  model.  Let 
me  impress  my  mind  with  the  importance  of  the  Scriptures, 
with  their  superior  value  to  human  learning,  and  let  me 
make  a  practical  use'of  every  part  of  them." 

"  I  should  endeavour  to  form  my  mode  of  preaching,  as 
well  as  of  thinking,  on  the  Scriptures.  Every  sect  has  its 
cant,  and  there  is  danger  of  being  blindly  led  by  it.  Let 
me  strive  to  discover  the  errors  of  the  party  or  sect  to 
which  I  belong.  Indiscriminate  approbation  is  a  sure  step 
to  error.  Adherence  to  principles,  and  not  to  men,  should 
separate  me  from  all  parties." 

But  already  Mr.  Channing's  efforts  were  checked, 
and  his  spirits  damped,  by  that  state  of  half-health, 
which  did  so  much  during  the  whole  of  his  early  man- 
hood to  repress  his  native  ardour  and  probably  to  over- 
cast his  firmament  of  thought,  though  it  could  never 
subdue  his  elastic  will  and  truly  heroic  conscience.  To 
his  grandfather  Ellery  he  thus  describes  his  trials : — 

"  Perhaps  it  is  fortunate  for  you  that  I  have  not  written. 


FRATERNAL  FRIENDSHIP.          159 

A  kind  of  stupefaction,  of  mental  inactivity,  has  seized  on 
me.  A  weight  of  dulness  has  oppressed  all  my  faculties. 
My  understanding  and  imagination  have  been  buried  under 
a  cloud,  my  feelings  deadened,  and  every  spring  of  action 
relaxed.  I  feel  but  little  interest  in  anything,  and  yet  I 
am  not  at  ease.  This  insensibility  is  morbid,  the  effect  of 
disease,  an  unnatural  state  of  the  mind,  a  violence  on  its 
powers  and  energies.  I  do  not  act  or  feel,  yet  my  sluggish- 
ness is  not  voluntary.  I  am  hemmed  in — I  am  fettered. 
Like  Enceladus,  I  groan  under  the  mountain  I  labour 
to  remove  it ;  but  still,  still  it  weighs  on  my  breast,  and 
seems  to  press  heavier  after  every  struggle.  In  fact,  my 
late  complaint  has  had  more  to  do  with  the  mind  than  the 
body,  or  rather  the  body  has  been  affected  in  such  a  man- 
ner as  peculiarly  to  affect  the  mind." 

Amidst  this  bodily  and  mental  depression,  making  a 
path  for  himself  between  scepticism  on  the  one  side, 
and  a  gloomy  theology  on  the  other,  slowly  winning  his 
way  to  peace  and  light,  delicately  conscientious,  eager 
for  unobscured  views,  aspiring  with  the  intense  en- 
thusiasm of  a  highly  ideal  temperament  after  perfect 
good,  he  found  the  refreshment  he  so  much  needed  in 
the  society  of  his  elder  brother,  whose  sweet,  tender, 
glad,  and  poetic  spirit  formed  with  his  a  beautiful  ac- 
cord. Their  leisure  hours  were  passed  together  in  most 
unreserved  intimacy ;  while  sometimes  they  followed 
the  paths  which  wound  through  the  then  unbroken 
woods  of  Mount  Auburn,  or  overlooked  the  wide 
panorama  from  Prospect  Hill,  and  sometimes  wore 
away  the  night  beside  the  embers  on  their  students' 
hearth.  Then,  and  ever  after,  they  stood  in  mutual 
relations  of  transparent  confidence,  and  were  united  by 
that  devoted  friendship  which,  next  after  communion 


160  STUDIES   AND    SETTLEMENT. 

with  the  Divine  Spirit,  and  the  love  of  a  true  marriage, 
is  the  holiest  tie  in  life.  Francis  thus  writes : — "  A 
word  of  our  dear  William.  You  know  not  how  happy 
I  feel  in  such  a  brother.  He  is  a  bright  light  in  the 
world ;  he  illumines,  he  animates,  he  points  the  way." 

Near  the  close  of  his  theological  studies,  Mr.  Chan- 
ning  was  admitted  as  "  a  member  in  full  communion  of 
the  First  Church  of  Christ  in  Cambridge,"  which  was 
at  that  time  under  the  charge  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Abiel 
Holmes,  who,  in  theology,  was  a  "  moderate  Calvinist," 
and  as  a  man  was  highly  respected  for  unpretending 
piety  and  uprightness.  The  doctrinal  opinions  which 
he  at  this  time  entertained  are  embodied,  though  not 
very  distinctly,  in  some  articles  of  faith  which  he  ap- 
pears to  have  prepared  for  his  own  use.  It  would 
seem  that  his  views  were  such  as  would  then  have  been 
called  Arian,  but  strongly  tinged  with  opinions  derived 
from  Dr.  Hopkins.  Where,  however,  language  gene- 
rally current  at  any  era  is  used  as  in  this  paper,  it  is 
difficult  to  form  a  clear  conception  of  the  writer's  real 
meaning ;  creeds  serving  to  conceal  minds,  much  as 
fashionable  garments  do  forms,  and  both  hiding  dis- 
tinctive features  under  uniformity  of  appearance.  Yet 
there  are  particular  expressions  in  these  articles  of 
faith,  which  are  suggestive  of  the  writer's  later  doc- 
trines ;  and  the  whole  paper  is  interesting,  in  enabling 
one  to  see  the  misty  valley  from  which  he  made  his 
toilsome  ascent  to  serener  heights.  Do  we  of  a  later 
day  sufficiently  appreciate  the  painful  struggles  by 
which  our  spiritual  fathers  have  led  us  up  through 
shadow  into  sunshine  ? 

At  this  time,  as  through  life,  Mr.  Channing  kept 
aloof  from  sectarian  entanglements,  for  by  instinct  he 


NOT   A   HOPKINSIAN.  161 

dreaded,  as  much  as  from  principle  he  disapproved,  all 
fetters  upon  free  thought.  But  it  certainly  is  not 
strange  that  one,  holding  such  opinions  as  he  has  re- 
corded, should  have  heen  supposed  to  have  a  leaning 
towards  Orthodoxy,  as  from  the  following  communica- 
tion it  appears  was  the  case : — 

"  He  received  the  usual  approbation  to  preach,  1  think," 
says  Dr.  Pierce,  "  from  the  Cambridge  Association.  As 
there  was  then  no  Divinity  School,  and  he  was  peculiarly 
cautious  about  committing  himself  on  points  of  difference 
among  Christians ;  as  he  was  also  supposed  to  be  in  fa- 
miliar correspondence  with  his  grandfather  Ellery,  who 
had  the  reputation  of  Orthodoxy  of  the  Hopkins  stamp, 
suspicions  were  entertained  by  some  that  he  himself  would 
enlist  on  that  side.  So  thought  some  of  the  ministers  com- 
posing the  Association  before  which  he  appeared  for  appro- 
bation. For,  as  he  himself  told  me,  the  only  question  pro- 
posed to  him,  after  reading  his  sermon,  was  by  Dr.  Stearns 
of  Lincoln, — '  Whether  he  believed  that  God  was  the 
author  of  sin  ?  ' ' 

Any  douhts  as  to  the  actual  state  of  his  opinions, 
however,  are  put  at  rest  by  his  own  testimony,  as  given 
in  later  years.  "  There  was  a  time,"  said  he,  "  when  I 
verged  towards  Calvinism,  for  ill  health  and  depression 
gave  me  a  dark  view  of  things.  But  the  doctrine  of 
the  Trinity  held  me  hack.  When  I  was  studying  my 
profession,  and  religion  was  the  subject  of  deepest  per- 
sonal concern  with  me,  I  followed  Doddridge  through 
his  'Rise  and  Progress'  till  he  brought  me  to  a  prayer 
to  Jesus  Christ.  There  I  stopped,  and  wrote  to  a 
friend  that  my  spiritual  guide  was  gone  where  I  could 
not  follow  him.  I  was  never  in  any  sense  a  Trini- 
tarian." 


162         STUDIES  AND  SETTLEMENT. 

Judge  White  thus  confirms  this  statement: — 

"  In  a  conversation  which  I  had  with  him,  on  our  way  to 
visit  Dr.  Osgood  of  Medford,  about  the  time  he  commenced 
preaching,  he  spoke  of  Dr.  Hopkins  with  warm  esteem, 
both  as  a  friend  and  a  theologian,  dwelling  with  particular 
emphasis  on  the  strong  feature  of  benevolence  which  marked 
both  his  character  and  his  divinity,  and  observing  very 
pointedly,  that  'those  who  were  called  Hopkinsians,  and 
considered  his  followers,  appeared  to  know  little  of  him  or 
of  his  true  theological  views.'  With  all  his  esteem  for  his 
friend  Dr.  Hopkins,  he  had  no  sympathy  with  these  sup- 
posed followers,  or  with  their  leading  opinions.  His  not 
manifesting  an  open  and  zealous  concurrence  with  any  par- 
ticular sect  or  denomination,  together  with  the  deep  seri- 
ousness of  his  religious  impressions,  might  have  given  him 
something  of  an  Orthodox  reputation  ;  but  I  am  persuaded 
that  he  was  neither  more  nor  less  entitled  to  it  at  that  time 
than  at  any  subsequent  period  of  his  life  ;  for  he  was  dis- 
tinguished then,  as  ever  afterwards,  for  his  devotion  to 
truth  and  for  the  spirit  of  free  inquiry." 

Mr.  Charming  began  to  preach  in  the  autumn  of 
1802,  being  then  in  his  twenty-third  year. 

"  T  find  in  my  register  for  1802,"  writes  Judge  White, 
"  the  following  memorandum  against  October  24  ; — '  Med- 
ford. Spent  the  Sunday  and  heard  Brother  Channing  for 
the  first  time  preach;' — and  I  have  even  now  a  distinct 
recollection  of  our  interview  with  Dr.  Osgood  at  his  house, 
where  we  dined,  and  of  the  gratification  I  experienced  at 
hearing  him  express  the  most  decided  approbation  of  the 
discourse,  and  speak  of  the  young  preacher's  whole  services 
and  manner  in  the  kindest  terms  of  sympathy  and  com- 
mendation. Having  been  intimately  acquainted  with  Dr. 


INVITATION    TO    SETTLE.  163 

Osgood,  and  knowing  how  frankly  he  expressed  his  real 
opinion,  I  felt  some  solicitude  till  he  had  spoken,  and  was 
the  more  gratified  by  what  he  said.  Yet  he  did  not  express 
himself  so  strongly  as  he  did  afterwards,  in  the  absence  of 
Mr.  Channing.  I  know  that  he  regarded  him  as  a  young 
preacher  of  extraordinary  gifts,  and  of  the  highest  promise 
in  his  profession.  I  mention  this  more  particularly,  having 
seen  it  erroneously  stated  in  the  Christian  Register,  I  think 
by  an  anonymous  writer,  that  his  early  performance  was 
not  thus  promising.  My  expectations,  which  had  been 
high,  were  fully  realized  when  I  first  heard  him.  There 
was  the  same  charm  in  his  sentiments  and  tones  of  voice 
which  I  ever  after  experienced  from  his  preaching.  Indeed, 
to  me  he  always  appeared  essentially  the  same,  though 
always  advancing ;  and  the  chief  difference  between  his 
early  and  later  preaching  seemed  to  arise  from  his  greater 
freedom,  energy,  and  earnestness,  both  of  spirit  and  man- 
ner, as  he  advanced  in  his  profound  views  of  religion  and 
humanity." 

His  preaching  at  once  attracted  attention  for  its 
fervour,  solemnity,  and  beauty.  The  power  of  his  look 
and  tone,  so  expressive  of  a  soul  that  overflowed  with 
spiritual  life,  won  the  hearts  of  his  hearers,  and  was  felt 
as  evidence  that  he  spoke  with  the  authority  of  ex- 
perience. A  person  who  heard  his  first  sermon,  on  the 
text,  "  Silver  and  gold  have  I  none,  but  such  as  I  have 
give  I  thee,"  in  which  he  described  the  large  range  of 
benevolent  action  open  to  every  human  being,  however 
situated,  describes  his  manner  as  singularly  "  radiant 
and  full  of  heavenly  joy."  The  general  admiration  felt 
for  his  spirit  and  genius  is  proved  by  the  fact,  that  he 
was  immediately  asked  to  preach  in  Boston,  Massa- 
chusetts, as  a  candidate  for  settlement,  by  the  Society 


164  STUDIES    AND    SETTLEMENT. 

in  Brattle  Street,  and  by  the  Society  in  Federal  Street. 
The  Kev.  Dr.  Thacher,  pastor  of  the  Brattle  Street 
congregation,  being  quite  infirm,  was  beginning  to  feel 
the  need  of  a  colleague ;  and  the  leading  men  among 
his  people  were  exceedingly  desirous  that  Mr.  Channing 
should  be  elected  to  fill  this  office.  They  consulted 
with  him  freely  in  relation  to  the  proposed  arrangement, 
and  gave  him  their  assurance,  that  he  would  receive  the 
invitation  of  the  Society  to  become  their  associate 
pastor,  if  he  would  once  more  preach  before  them.  He 
returned  to  Newport  to  rest  and  recruit,  however,  with- 
out giving  them  a  definite  answer. 

Meanwhile,  the  Society  in  Federal  Street  had  been 
so  strongly  attracted  towards  Mr.  Channing,  that  they 
hastened  at  once  to  request  him  to  settle  with  them, 
and  deputed  Deacon  Francis  Wright  to  wait  upon  him 
with  the  following  "call:"- 

"  Boston,  December  29th,  1802. 

"  DEAR  SIR,— When  a  committee  of  the  religious  Society 
in  Federal  Street  lately  made  application  to  you  to  preach 
on  probation,  they  were  influenced  not  merely  by  their  own 
united  opinions,  but  by  their  persuasion  of  the  dispositions 
and  wishes  of  the  Society  which  they  represented. 

"It  is  gratifying  to  find  that  in  this  persuasion  they 
were  not  mistaken,  but  that  the  Society  have  received  such 
satisfaction  from  your  ministration  among  them,  and  have 
such  a  conviction  of  your  character  and  accomplishments, 
that  they  were  prepared  for  a  more  decisive  expression  of 
their  approbation.  At  a  full  meeting  of  the  Society,  holden 
on  the  28th  instant,  they  voted  to  invite  you  to  become 
their  pastor,  and  have  assigned  to  us  the  grateful  office  of 
presenting  to  you  their  invitation. 


BRATTLE    STREET    SOCIETY.  165 

"Their  votes,  which  we  inclose,  will  inform  you  of  the 
provision  which  they  offer  for  your  support. 

"  In  determining  on  the  compensation  which  it  would  be 
proper  for  them  to  propose,  the  Society  have  been  governed 
by  serious,  and,  they  hope,  liberal  views  of  the  charge 
which  they  request  you  to  undertake.  They  are  sensible 
what  profound  reflection  and  laborious  inquiry  the  sacred 
office  requires ;  and  it  is  their  wish  and  intention,  that  the 
mind  devoted  to  such  high  engagements  should,  as  far  as 
may  be  practicable,  be  undisturbed  by  solicitudes  and  em- 
barrassment from  the  cares  of  life. 

"  In  this  interesting  transaction  there  has  been  great 
unanimity.  Four  only  of  the  whole  Society  expressed  any 
indecision  on  the  subject.  Two  of  those,  from  absence,  had 
not  had  equal  opportunity  with  the  rest  of  the  Society  to 
form  a  satisfactory  judgment.  All  the  four  so  far  concurred 
in  the  favourable  sentiments  entertained  by  the  Society  in 
general,  that  they  wished  to  hear  you  further;  with  a  laud- 
able deference  to  the  general  sentiment,  they  excused 
themselves  from  giving  a  voice  on  the  question,  and  signi- 
fied their  disposition  to  acquiesce  in  the  decision  of  their 
brethren. 

"We  have  thus  the  satisfaction  to  present  you  the  desires 
of  a  united  people,  and  cannot  but  express  a  hope  that  this 
invitation,  and  the  proposals  accompanying  it,  will  be  accept- 
able to  you.  Such  a  result  we  shall  consider  as  a  blessing 
of  Heaven  on  the  Society  and  its  members,  and  all  with 
whom  they  are  tenderly  connected. 

"  Any  explanations  or  further  communications  from  us, 
which  may  be  considered  necessary,  we  shall  cheerfully 
offer  on  request ;  for  this  purpose  a  personal  interview  would 
be  agreeable  to  us,  but  the  distance  and  the  season  of  the 
year  would  render  it  inconvenient  for  the  committee  to  re- 
pair to  Newport.  If  it  should  be  convenient  to  you,  be- 


166  STUDIES    AND    SETTLEMENT. 

fore  your  proposed  return  to  this  vicinity,  to  be  at  Provi- 
dence or  Bristol,  some  of  the  committee  would  have  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  you  at  either  of  those  places  at  such 
time  as  you  shall  specify. 

"  In  the  name  and  hehalf  of  the  Society,  we  remain, 
"Respectfully,  with  great  regard, 

"  Your  friends  and  ohedient  servants, 
"FRANCIS  WRIGHT, 
HENRY  HUNTER, 
THOMAS  DAVIS, 
JOHN  DAVIS, 
SIMON  ELLIOT, 
RUSSELL  STURGIS, 
EDWARD  TUCKERMAN,  Jr., 
Committee. 
"  MR.  WILLIAM  E.  CHANNIXG." 

Together  with  this  call,  Mr.  Charming  received  per- 
suasive appeals  from  many  friends,  advising  him  to 
preach  again,  as  requested,  at  Brattle  Street.  But  Dr. 
Thacher  was  now  dead;  and  feeling  that  he  was  at 
once  too  ill  and  too  inexperienced  to  discharge  alone 
the  duties  in  so  large  a  congregation,  and  that  the 
difficulties  incident  to  the  settlement  of  a  colleague  with 
him  were  great,  he  determined  not  to  offer  himself  to 
that  Society  as  a  candidate.  In  his  letter  he  says: — 

"I  hope  that  I  have  not  subjected  your  Society  to  incon- 
venience by  delaying  to  this  period  my  answer  to  their 
application.  A  request  of  such  importance  required  long 
deliberation.  I  have  considered  my  decision  as  one  which 
must  seriously  affect  my  whole  future  life.  I  have  been 
unwilling,  too,  to  determine  without  the  counsel  of  my 
friends;  and  from  a  concurrence  of  opinion,  I  am  con- 
strained to  decline  the  invitation  of  the  Church  and  Congre- 


FEDERAL    STREET  SOCIETY.  167 

gation  in  Brattle  Street  to  preach  before  them  with  a  view 
to  settlement. 

"I  have  been  for  some  time  in  a  feeble  state  of  health, 
and  the  labour  of  speaking  in  your  house  is  so  great,  that 
there  would  be  danger  of  fatal  injury.  In  so  numerous  a 
Society,  also,  professional  engagements  would  require  great 
exertions,  the  fatigues  of  which  might  unfit  me  for  that 
attention  to  study  on  which  my  usefulness  must  very  much 
depend.  It  is  principally  by  impressing  religious  truth, 
that  a  minister  is  instrumental  in  promoting  the  happiness 
of  his  people;  and  his  own  personal  discipline  is  indis- 
pensably necessary  to  a  faithful  and  effectual  ministration 
of  the  word  of  God.  Hence  the  importance  not  only  of 
health,  but  of  much  leisure,  especially  to  one  so  young  and 
inexperienced  as  myself.  Could  I,  then,  consistently  with 
a  regard  to  the  prosperity  of  the  church  and  the  eternal 
interests  of  my  hearers,  desire  a  situation  which  would  re- 
quire efforts  disproportioned  to  my  strength,  and  where  the 
multiplicity  of  duties  would  allow  but  little  opportunity  for 
improvement? 

"Your  Society,  Sir,  has  much  indeed  to  recommend  it. 
But  do  not  the  very  circumstances  of  your  influence  and 
numbers  attach  high  responsibility  to  the  office  of  your 
minister,  and  render  experience,  improved  talents,  and  in- 
sight of  character  peculiarly  necessary?  A  man  of  principle 
should  first  of  all  inquire,  whether  he  is  capable  of  perform- 
ing the  duties  he  is  called  to  undertake ;  and  in  calculating 
his  powers,  he  ought  to  guard  against  too  high  an  estima- 
tion of  them,  lest  he  be  led  to  engage  in  a  sphere  to  which 
he  is  inadequate.  My  feelings,  as  well  as  my  reason,  re- 
commend for  me  a  more  humble  sphere ;  and  I  have  a 
confidence  that  you  will  be  no  sufferers  in  consequence  of 
the  resolution  which  I  have  adopted. 

"In  thus  declining  the  invitation  of  the  Church  and 
Congregation  in  Brattle  Street,  I  am  influenced  by  the 


108  STUDIES    AND    SETTLEMENT. 

highest  respect  for  their  character,  and  a  sincere  regard  for 
their  most  important  interests.  And  may  God  support  and 
guide  them  by  his  grace  and  power! 

"Under  a  grateful  sense  of  the  honour  conferred  on  me 
by  the  Society  which  you  represent,  I  remain,  with  great 
respect, 

"Your  obedient  servant, 

"  W.  E.  CHA.NNING." 

This  letter,  otherwise  unimportant,  is  inserted  as 
illustrative  of  the  caution  with  which  its  writer  made  up 
his  judgment  as  to  any  course  of  conduct,  though  he 
was  prompt  and  resolute  in  executing  his  purposes 
when  formed.  It  shows,  too,  very  clearly  his  humble 
estimate  of  his  own  abilities,  and  his  conscientious 
desire  to  fit  himself  for  efficient  service  in  his  vocation. 
Wisdom  and  moderation  had  already  become  his  law. 

Mr.  Channing  was  the  more  inclined  to  settle  at 
Federal  Street,  because,  while  the  weakness  of  that 
Society  called  out  his  sympathies,  he  was  hopeful  that 
his  health  would  permit  him  to  meet  with  fidelity  the 
limited  demand  which  would  there  be  made  upon  him. 
So,  returning  to  Boston,  he  conferred  with  the  com- 
mittee of  the  Society,  and  accepted  their  call  in  the 
following  letter : — 

"  To  the  Committee  of  the  Religious  Society  in  Federal  Street. 

"  GENTLEMEN, — I  now  address  you  to  communicate  my 
acceptance  of  the  invitation  of  the  Society  in  Federal  Street 
to  settle  with  them  as  their  minister.  The  character  of  the 
Society,  the  favourable  disposition  they  have  expressed  to- 
wards me,  and  the  prospect  of  usefulness  in  a  situation  so 
well  adapted  to  my  present  state  of  health,  render  this  call 
peculiarly  agreeable. 

"  The  proposals  you  have  communicated  are   entirely 


FEDERAL    STREET    SOCIETY.  169 

satisfactory;  and  when  I  consider  them  as  expressive  of 
regard  to  religion,  and  originating  in  a  desire  to  relieve 
your  minister  from  solicitudes  and  embarrassments,  I  accede 
to  them  with  pleasure.  A  house  was  not  mentioned,  but  I 
view  the  clause  which  provided  for  'additional  compensa- 
tion in  case  of  an  increase  of  necessary  expense,'  as  an  en- 
gagement to  supply  one  whenever  it  may  be  wanted. 

"  In  settling  among  you,  I  shall  consider  the  prosperity 
of  the  Society  as  my  end  and  happiness.  As  an  ambassador 
of  Christ,  I  shall  endeavour  faithfully  to  declare  those 
truths  which  he  has  revealed  in  his  word,  and  on  which  the 
purity  of  the  church  and  the  eternal  interests  of  mankind 
depend. 

"  Though  young  and  feeble,  1  am  encouraged  to  form 
this  solemn  connection  from  a  confidence  in  that  candour 
and  affection  I  have  already  experienced.  I  desire  your 
prayers  to  Almighty  God,  that  he  would  enable  me  to  per- 
form the  important  duties  of  my  calling,  and  that  my 
labours  may  not  be  in  vain  in  the  Lord. 

"With  great  respect, 
"I  remain  your  sincere  friend  and  obedient  servant, 

"  WILLIAM  E.  CHANNING. 

"  Boston,  February  12,  1803." 

His  state  of  mind,  at  the  time  of  his  settlement,  is 
shown  by  the  following  extracts  from  letters  written  at 
this  period  to  his  uncle,  the  Kev.  Henry  Channing: — 

"  I  communicated,  some  time  ago,  to  the  Congregation  in 
Federal  Street  my  acceptance  of  their  offers.  After  much 
deliberation,  I  concluded  that  this  situation  was  best 
adapted  to  my  strength,  and  furnished  the  fairest  prospect 
of  usefulness.  I  requested  two  months'  leisure  to  prepare 
myself  for  the  office,  in  hopes  that,  in  this  period,  I  should 
be  able  to  determine  upon  my  state  of  health.  The  two 
months  have  passed.  I  find  myself,  on  the  whole,  stronger. 

VOL.  I.  1 


170  STUDIES    AND    SETTLEMENT. 

'I  have  sufficient  strength  to  perform  the  duties  of  the 
office  at  present.  What  may  happen  I  know  not.  I  think, 
however,  when  called  by  the  unanimous  voice  of  such  a 
Society,  I  ought  not  to  shrink  from  the  labour  because  it  is 
possible  that  my  powers  may  fail.  I  have  fairly  laid  before 
the  leading  gentlemen  of  the  Society  the  doubts  I  have 
about  my  situation.  I  have  told  them  that  I  fear  that,  in 
the  heat  of  summer,  I  shall  not  be  able  constantly  to  per- 
form ministerial  duty,  and  that  I  am  willing  to  defer  the 
ordination  to  any  period,  however  remote.  They,  however, 
think,  that  the  interests  of  the  Society  recommend  an  im- 
mediate settlement.  They  expect  nothing  beyond  my 
ability,  and  are  willing  that  I  should  call  in  help  whenever 
it  is  needed.  Under  these  circumstances,  I  think  it  right 
to  comply.  The  prosperity  of  the  Church  should  be  the 
great  object  of  pursuit;  and  even  if  sacrifices  should  be 
necessary,  I  would  willingly  make  them.  But  I  am  dis- 
posed to  believe  that  my  health  will  be  promoted  by  this 
measure.  I  found  that  I  grew  strong  by  preaching  before, 
and  I  think,  that,  with  means  of  obtaining  aid,  I  shall  not 
be  called  to  greater  exertion  than  I  am  able  to  support. 

"The  Society  have  mentioned  the  third  Wednesday  in 
May,  the  18th  of  the  month,  as  most  agreeable  for  the  day 
of  ordination.  I  hope,  Sir,  you  will  be  present  and  preach 
the  sermon.  Your  fatherly  goodness  is  a  stronger  motive 
than  your  near  connection  with  me,  for  soliciting  this  favour. 
In  this  most  solemn  act  I  wish  you  to  bear  a  part.  You 
have  had  no  little  share  in  conducting  me  to  the  choice  of 
the  sacred  profession.  I  ask,  I  need,  your  advice,  direction, 
and  encouragement.  No  one  will  feel  half  the  interest  you 
do  in  my  welfare;  no  other  person  will  bring  so  much 
affection  to  the  performance  of  this  part  of  the  solemnity. 
I  know  the  tenderness  of  your  feelings.  I  anticipate  the 
emotions  which  on  such  a  day  I  shall  myself  experience. 
But  I  trust  that  religion  will  solemnize  and  compose  the 


HOPES    AND    FEARS.  171 

heart,  and  I  thijik  that  from  your  lips  I  shall  receive  the 
deepest  impression  of  the  awful  magnitude  of  my  duty  as 
a  minister  of  Christ." 

"I  have  spent  the  last  week  in  the  country,  and  I  hope 
the  fresh  air  and  exercise  have  strengthened  me.  Yester- 
day I  preached  two  sermons,  of  near  fifty  minutes'  length 
each,  and  found  myself  but  little  exhausted.  You  may  be 
surprised  at  my  wearisome  prolixity.  But  both  the  dis- 
courses were  occasional; — one  on  opening  our  house  of 
worship,  after  an  interruption  of  divine  service  for  nearly 
three  months ;  the  other,  on  the  death  of  Mrs.  Davis,  a 
most  amiable  and  much  beloved  woman,  and  an  ornament 
of  the  Church.  I  might  have  said  less,  and  perhaps  to 
more  effect.  But  I  have  not  learnt  as  yet  to  repress  the 
ardour  of  composition.  I  find  it  easier  to  dilate  than  to 
compress 

"When  I  see  the  anxiety  of  my  friends  about  me,  I  feel 
melancholy.  Who  am  I,  that  others  should  take  an  interest 
in  me?  What  are  my  powers?  How  little  am  I  able  to 
answer  expectation!  I  almost  sink  under  a  sense  of  my 
weakness.  But  I  am  conscious  that  pride  mingles  much  in 
this  humiliation,  and  I  find  a  refuge  in  the  character  of 
God,  who  has  raised  me  up  for  his  own  purposes,  and  who 
will  make  me  in  all  situations  an  instrument  for  accom- 
plishing his  benevolent  designs 

"  I  feel  awed  in  considering  the  magnitude  of  the  duties 
soon  to  devolve  upon  me.  The  church  of  God,  purchased 
with  the  blood  of  his  Son ;  the  eternal  interests  of  man- 
kind; —  what  objects  are  here  presented!  I  ask  your 
prayers,  that  T  may  have  grace  to  be  faithful." 

On  Wednesday,  June  1st,  1803,  Mr.  Channing  was 
ordained.  The  order  of  services  was  as  follows : — 
Introductory  prayer  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Holmes,  of  Cam- 
bridge ;  discourse  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Tappan,  Professor 

i  2 


172  STUDIES    AND    SETTLEMENT. 

at  Harvard  University ;  prayer  of  consecration  by  the 
Eev.  Dr.  Osgood,  of  Medford ;  charge  by  his  uncle, 
the  Kev.  Henry  Channing,  of  New  London,  who  had 
declined  preaching  the  sermon ;  right  hand  of  fellow- 
ship by  his  classmate  and  friend,  the  Eev.  Joseph 
Tuckerman,  of  Chelsea. 

One  who  was  a  devoted  parishioner  and  a  warm 
personal  friend  in  after  years,  George  Ticknor,  Esq., 
has  communicated  the  following  sketch  of  this  occa- 
sion : — 

"  My  first  recollection  of  Dr.  Channing  is  on  the  day  of 
his  ordination.  My  father,  who  was  one  of  the  council,  led 
me  by  the  hand,  as  a  small  boy ;  and  I  went  with  him  in 
the  procession,  and  sat  with  him.  So  far  as  I  now  remem- 
ber, I  had  never  heard  of  the  person  to  be  ordained  ;  and  I 
have  still  no  recollection  of  any  thing  in  the  services  of  the 
day,  till  they  were  about  to  be  concluded.  Then  the  pale, 
spiritual-looking  young  man,  whose  consecration  I  had  wit- 
nessed without  really  understanding  its  purport,  rose  and 
announced  the  closing  hymn.  My  attention  was  immedi- 
ately fastened  on  him ;  and  particularly  on  his  visible 
emotion,  when  he  came  to  the  last  stanza :  — 

'My  tongue  repeats  her  vows, 

Peace  to  this  sacred  house  ! 
For  here  my  friends  and  brethren  dwell ; 

And  since  my  glorious  God 

Makes  thee  his  blest  abode, 
My  soul  shall  ever  love  thee  well.' 

His  looks,  the  tones  of  his  trembling  voice,  and  the  devout 
air  with  which  he  repeated  rather  than  read  these  lines,  are 
still  present  to  me  whenever  the  scene  comes  up  in  my 
thoughts;  and,  in  fact,  at  the  time  they  so  impressed  the 
words  themselves  on  my  mind,  that  I  have  never  forgotten 
them  since.  After  the  hymn  had  been  sung,  he  rose  once 


HIS    ORDINATION.  173 

more,  and  in  the  same  tender  and  devout  manner  pro- 
nounced a  very  simple  benediction.  In  this,  too,  I  see 
him  still  freshly  before  me,  with  his  upcast  eyes,  and 
remember  thinking  how  spiritual  he  was,  and  being  sad 
that  from  his  feeble  appearance  it  did  not  seem  as  if  he 
would  live  long." 

During  the  spring  and  summer,  before  and  after  his 
ordination,  Mr.  Channing  resided  at  Brookline,  in  the 
family  of  Stephen  Higginson,  Jun.,  whose  heart,  over- 
flowing with  benevolence  and  hospitality,  had  taken  the 
interests  of  the  young  minister  under  his  paternal  care, 
and  who,  together  with  his  devout  and  excellent  wife, — 
who,  though  orthodox  in  views,  was  liberal  in  spirit, — 
rejoiced  in  the  saintly  purity  and  rich  intelligence  of 
their  friend.  Here  a  large  library  and  every  con- 
venience for  study  or  relaxation  were  open  to  his  use; 
his  bodily  health  was  benefited  by  country  air  and  free 
exercise  amidst  the  picturesque  landscapes  of  that  most 
beautiful  neighbourhood;  and  his  affections  found  a 
home. 


MEMOIR. 

PART  II. 


MEMOIR. 

PART   II. 
CHAPTER  I. 

EARLY     MINISTRY. 
JET.  23-34.    1803-1814. 

IT  was  in  his  twenty  -fourth  year  that  Mr.  Charming 
entered  upon  his  ministerial  course  in  Boston,  already 
fitted  hy  the  discipline  of  life  and  inward  experience  to 
sympathize  in  the  movements  of  the  time  and  place  in 
which  his  lot  was  cast,  and  destined  to  lend  them  effi- 
cient aid.  But  hefore  tracing  his  relations  to  that 
development  of  spirituality,  freedom,  charity,  which  it 
was  the  mission  of  his  age  to  promote,  let  us  first 
observe  his  growth  toward  the  stature  of  a  perfect  man 
in  his  closet  and  home  circle,  in  his  parish  and  im- 
mediate neighbourhood.  Thus  shall  we  follow  down 
the  stream  from  its  mountain  springs,  which  were  fed  by 
the  rains  of  heaven. 

The  family  of  an  estimable  parishioner,  with  whom 
Mr.  Charming  at  first  boarded,  remember  him  at  that 
period  as  serious  in  deportment  to  a  degree  that  was 
even  oppressive.  He  had  the  air  of  one  absorbed  in 
his  own  contemplations,  and  looked  care-worn,  weary, 
and  anxious.  Society  seemed  distasteful;  he  joined 
but  little  in  conversation ;  took  his  meals  in  haste ;  was 

t 


178  EARLY   MINISTRY. 

retired  in  his  ways;  lived  mostly  in  his  study ;  appeared 
rather  annoyed  than  pleased  with  visitors ;  seldom  went 
abroad,  declining,  when  possihle,  all  invitations ;  and, 
in  a  word,  was  most  content  when  left  uninterruptedly 
to  himself.  There  was  sweetness  in  his  looks  and 
words,  however;  solemn  counsels  were  gently  given, 
and  an  atmosphere  of  holiness  threw  a  winning  charm 
over  his  conversation  and  conduct.  Undoubtedly  this 
reserve,  the  shade  of  which  was  deepest  in  his  first 
entrance  upon  his  duties,  and  which  cleared  away  as  he 
became  more  confirmed  in  goodness  and  wisdom,  was 
partly  owing  to  his  habit  of  fastening  attention  upon 
any  subject  that  interested  him,  and  of  brooding  over 
it  even  while  in  society  and  in  action, — a  fault,  in  his 
regard,  of  which  he  early  became  aware,  and  which  he 
endeavoured  through  his  later  life  to  check.  In  his 
journals  he  frequently  thus  refers  to  it: — 

"  A  subject  has  been  very  injurious  to  me.  It  has  shut 
me  up  in  my  room  till  my  body  has  been  exhausted,  and 
has  led  to  neglect  of  my  people  and  family.  I  must  be 
moderate  in  every  thing." 

"  It  will  often  be  useful  to  fix  the  number  of  hours  dur- 
ing which  I  will  attend  to  a  subject,  and  rigidly  to  adhere 
to  the  determination." 

"My  mode  of  study  destroys  me,  my  health,  my  piety, 
my  social  feelings  ;  and  is  therefore  sinful." 

"My  long  absorption  in  a  subject  enfeebles  my  mind, 
prevents  its  free  action,  casts  a  cloud  over  my  thoughts, 
produces  a  painful  anxiety." 

My  speculations  about  the  origin  of  moral  feelings,  &c., 
cannot  justify  a  practical  neglect  of  them." 

"No  subject  can  be  usefully  continued  beyond  a  certain 
time.  The  mind  needs  to  be  recruited.  All  the  motives 


SENSE    OF   RESPONSIBILITY.  179 

which  impel  me  to  pursue  the  subject  require  me  to  disen- 
gage my  mind  for  a  season." 

"  The  attainment  of  truth  requires  me  to  be  able  to  con- 
tinue in  a  state  of  doubt  until  I  have  had  time  to  examine 
all  the  arguments  which  relate  to  a  point ;  and  this  examin- 
ation, however  protracted,  if  conducted  by  a  love  of  truth, 
is  virtuous, — approved  by  conscience  and  God, — the  im- 
provement of  my  best  powers, — an  approximation  towards 
God." 

"  The  wretchedness  I  have  suffered  on  so  many  topics 
shows  the  importance  of  limiting  the  period  of  attention." 

"  Because  doubt  spreads  itself  over  one  subject  I  ought 
not  to  doubt  of  all.  This  will  lead  to  misery.  A  narrow 
mind  cannot  see  the  connections  between  many  propositions 
which  are  yet  supported  by  sufficient  proofs." 

"  My  sleep  has  been  broken  by  anxiety  at  not  discovering 
truth." 

"  Let  it  be  my  rule  never  to  cany  a  subject  with  me  into 
society.  My  social  duties  are  in  this  way  neglected." 

But  his  serious  manner  was  chiefly  to  be  traced  to 
profound  conscientiousness.  Without  the  elastic  spirits 
which  a  vigorous  tone  of  body  gives,  as  a  power  of 
reaction  for  the  spirit,  he  bent  beneath  a  feeling  of 
unfitness  for  the  duties  of  his  vocation.  To  a  young 
friend  who  was  just  entering  upon  the  ministry,  and 
who  was  oppressed  by  a  like  sense  of  responsibility, 
he  once  said, — "Take  courage.  I  suffered  as  you 
now  do.  In  the  early  years  of  my  ministry,  ill  health 
and  a  deep  consciousness  of  unworthiness  took  away 
my  energy  and  hope,  and  I  had  almost  resolved  to  quit 
my  profession.  My  brother  Francis  begged  me  to 
persevere,  to  make  a  fairer  trial ;  and  to  his  influence  I 
owe  very  much  the  continuance  of  labours  which,  I 
hope,  have  not  been  useless  to  myself  or  to  others." 

i  3 


180  EARLY    MINISTRY. 

A  letter  written  at  this  time  to  his  uncle  Henry  well 
shows  how  deep  his  depression  was  : — 

'I  have  no  right  to  complain  of  the  trials  of  my  ministry. 
They  are  small,  compared  with  what  thousands  of  my 
brethren  are  called  to  endure.  I  can  complain  of  nothing 
but  myself.  Every  day  teaches  me  more  of  my  weakness 
and  corruption,  and  yet  I  seem  to  grow  no  better.  I  hope 
my  hearers  are  more  profited  by  my  discourses  than  I  am, 
or  I  shall  do  little  good.  I  can  only  hope  that  God  designs 
to  humble  me,  to  make  me  feel  my  insufficiency,  that  he 
may  lead  me  to  ascribe  the  success  of  my  labours  to  his 
blessing,  whenever  he  may  please  to  make  them  powerful 
to  the  salvation  of  souls." 

His  painful  straggles,  and  his  mode  of  triumphing 
over  his  weakness,  are  pointed  out  yet  more  fully  in  a 
letter  written  many  years  later  to  a  young  brother  who 
had  sought  his  advice  :  — 

"  I  have  passed  through  too  much  of  your  sad  experi- 
ence, to  be  able  to  treat  it  harshly.  My  own  mind  has 
often  been  ready  to  sink  under  like  burdens.  A  merciful 
Power  has  sustained  me,  and  I  trust  that  it  will  sustain 
you.  It  is  impossible  that  a  man,  who  is  at  all  alive  to  his 
moral  and  religious  obligations,  should  enter  on  the  minis- 
try without  many  solicitudes,  fears,  and  painful  convictions 
of  his  distance  from  the  perfection  he  is  to  teach.  It  is 
impossible  for  a  young  man,  especially  if  he  has  been 
retired  in  his  habits,  to  appear  in  a  pulpit, — one  of  the 
most  conspicuous  spots  on  earth, — and  to  escape  all  con- 
sciousness of  himself,  and  give  himself  up  with  an  undivided 
heart  to  a  work  to  which  he  is  new,  and  to  which  his  feel- 
ings have  been  but  imperfectly  trained.  The  strongest  of 
all  passions,  ambition,  cannot  at  once  be  put  to  silence,  and 


INWARD    STRUGGLES.  181 

its  inconsistency  with  the  spirit  of  Christianity  and  the 
ministry  produces  keen  self-reproach. 

"  I  tell  you  here  what  I  suppose  all  ministers  could  tell, 
and  I  see  not  how  the  evil  is  to  be  avoided  under  the 
present  constitution  of  things.  God  might  have  committed 
his  word  to  the  ministry  of  angels,  but  this  he  has  not  seen 
tit  to  do;  he  intrusts  it  to  earthen  vessels,  to  frail  men,  to 
those  who  need  moral  and  religious  education  as  truly  as 
their  hearers,  who  reprove  themselves  in  the  reproofs  they 
administer  to  others,  and  who  are  to  carry  others  forward 
by  advancing  themselves.  A  deep  sense  of  imperfection 
and  much  spiritual  conflict  are,  then,  inseparable  from  the 
work. 

"  Your  defects  do  not  at  all  discourage  me.  I  eould  tell 
of  those  who  have  struggled  through  the  same.  I  do  not 
mean  to  deny  their  existence.  The  only  question  is,  Do 
you  thirst  to  be  improved?  Do  you  thirst  for  a  generous 
interest  in  your  fellow-creatures?  Do  you  desire  a  new 
power  to  do  good  ?  Have  you  the  principle  of  progress  in 
you  ?  Of  this  I  cannot  doubt,  nor  can  you.  That  you  are 
not  doomed  to  stop  for  ever  where  you  are,  I  know.  God 
is  giving  you  power  in  your  moral  nature,  in  Christianity, 
in  his  Holy  Spirit,  against  selfishness,  apathy,  and  corrupt 
ambition.  These  can  be  overcome,  and  must  be,  and  I 
know  not  a  vocation  in  which  you  can  withstand  them  so 
effectually  as  in  the  ministry.  The  very  pains  you  have 
suffered,  if  they  do  not  palsy  you  by  taking  away  the  hope 
of  change  and  progress,  will  do  you  good.  They  show  you 
that  you  are  not  spiritually  dead.  They  should  satisfy  you 
that  you  have  the  foundation  of  great  ministerial  usefulness. 
Set  yourself  to  work  with  new  earnestness  for  your  own 
improvement,  and  seek  to  improve  yourself  not  only  for 
your  own  sake,  but  that  you  may  more  effectually  improve 
and  quicken  your  fellow-creatures,  and  God  will  crown 
your  labours  with  success. 


182  EARLY   MINISTRY. 

"What  you  need,  what  all  need,  is  determined  self- 
denial.  You  need  to  lay  on  yourself  severe  rules  as  to  the 
distribution  of  time,  social  intercourse,  &c.  You  need 
force  of  purpose,  hardiness,  and  resolution.  This  is  a  much 
deeper  evil  than  selfishness  or  coldness.  You  have  been 
brought  up,  perhaps,  too  delicately,  and  are  paying  the 
penalty  of  having  faced  so  few  storms.  You  have  not  yet 
learned  to  will  with  that  energy  and  fearlessness  to  which 
so  many  difficulties  yield.  Do  you  ask  how  this  force  is 
to  be  gained?  We  know  that  exposure,  exertion,  and 
conflict  with  difficulties  do  much  to  give  tone  to  the  body, 
and  so  they  do  to  the  mind.  The  revolving  of  elevating 
thoughts  in  our  closet  does  little  for  us.  We  must  bring 
them  home  to  the  mind  in  the  midst  of  action  and  difficulty. 
I  cannot,  then,  consent  that  you  should  yield  to  your  first 
serious  trial  in  life.  Resolve  on  the  acquisition  of  moral 
energy, — the  greatest  of  acquisitions, — and  as  far  as  you 
can  command  circumstances,  place  yourself  where  it  may 
be  won  most  effectually.  I  would  not  expose  you  very 
freely  at  first,  any  more  than  I  would  carry  the  invalid 
from  his  warm  room  into  a  piercing  atmosphere.  But  take 
on  yourself  some  good  work,  and  determine  to  carry  it 
through,  whether  hard  or  easy,  painful  or  pleasant,  to  the 
extent  of  your  power.  I  care  little  where  you  preach,  if 
you  find  a  sphere  which  will  give  a  more  manly  tone  to 
your  mind,  and  inure  you  to  wrestle  with  difficulties.  I  do 
not  fear,  nor  must  you.  God  bless  you!" 

In  relation  to  the  trials  of  young  ministers,  he  once 
also  said, — "You must  not  expect  too  much  from  your 
minister,  especially  at  first.  If  he  have  sensibility,  he 
will  suffer  enough  from  the  consciousness  of  deficiency, 
without  being  reminded  of  it  from  abroad.  I  cannot 
describe  to  you  the  load  which  weighed  down  my  mind 
at  the  beginning  of  my  ministry." 


HAPPINESS.  183 

How  far  he  was  then  wrapped  about  by  chill  morn- 
ing fogs,  which  for  a  time,  but  only  for  a  time,  shut 
out  the  sunshine  of  God's  all-embracing  joy,  appears 
also  from  the  following  description  of  his  early  expe- 
rience : — 

"You  tell  me  your  faith  was  the  faith  of  happiness. 
This  is  never  the  surest.  Fortunately,  mine  grew  up  under 
a  dark  sky,  and  the  light  has  been  increasing  to  this  day. 
My  passion  for  happiness  spent  itself  in  my  youth  in 
reverie.  I  never  thought  of  realizing  the  vision  on  earth, 
and  yet  it  has,  in  an  humble  manner,  been  realized.  My 
faith  in  God,  schooled  by  trial,  looked  to  him  first  and 
almost  exclusively  for  virtue,  for  deliverance  from  the  great 
evil  of  sin,  which  I  early  felt  to  be  the  only  true  evil. 
The  consciousness  of  unworthiness  repressed  all  hopes  of 
immediate  happiness,  gave  me  a  profound  conviction  of 
the  justice  of  my  suffering,  turned  all  my  reproaches  from 
Providence  on  myself,  and  not  only  made  me  incapable  of 
murmuring,  but  taught  me  gratitude  for  the  discipline  of 
life.  How  often,  in  disappointment,  has  my  first  utterance 
been  thanks  to  the  Purifier  of  the  soul ! 

"  Thus  my  faith  has  never  for  a  moment  been  shaken 
by  suffering.  The  consciousness  of  unworthiness,  of  fall- 
ing so  far  below  my  idea  of  duty,  a  feeling  which  hardly 
forsakes  me,  has  helped  much  to  reconcile  me  to  outward 
evil.  It  has  taken  the  sting  from  human  reproach.  In 
listening  to  the  inward  reprover  I  have  cared  little  for 
human  opinion,  and  have  found  too  much  truth  in  censure 
to  be  much  displeased  with  any  but  myself.  Accordingly, 
my  religion  has  taken  very  much  one  form ;  I  think  of  God 
as  the  Father,  from  whose  power  and  love  I  may  seek  and 
hope  for  myself  and  others  the  unutterable  and  only  good, — 
that  of  deliverance  from  all  inward  evil,  of  perfect,  un- 
spotted goodness,  of  spiritual  life  now  and  for  ever. 


184  EARLY    MINISTRY. 

"  I  have  talked  of  myself,  for,  after  all,  our  experience  is 
the  best  lesson  we  can  give  to  others.  Your  nature  differs. 
You  have  had  an  impatient  thirst  for  immediate  happi- 
ness, which  my  early  history,  and  perhaps  my  mental  con- 
stitution, forbade  me.  Happiness  has  come  to  me  almost 
as  a  surprise,  without  plan  or  anticipation.  You  have 
grasped  at  it  as  almost  your  lawful  inheritance,  and  had 
almost  a  feeling  of  wrong  at  disappointment." 

Thus  all  proves  that  he  was  at  this  time  concentred 
in  his  own  soul,  and  seeking  there  to  gain  the  unity 
with  God  which  is  salvation.  His  private  papers, 
especially,  show  how  intently  he  was  striving  to  subdue 
evil,  to  shun  temptation,  and  to  give  freest  room  to 
pure  and  holy  thoughts.  Such  memorials  are  sacred, 
and  should  be  used  as  under  the  eye  of  the  spirit  which 
wrote  these  records  of  its  pilgrimage,  and  now  has  out- 
grown and  dropped  its  mortal  shell.  But  it  may  en- 
courage sinking  hearts  to  know  that  this  good  man  was 
tried  as  they  are,  and  agonized  his  way  to  peace.  And 
some  few  hints  are  therefore  given  from  his  journals. 
They  cannot,  indeed,  be  rightly  omitted,  in  describing 
one  who  was  so  bright  an  instance  of  moral  victory. 
These  papers  most  abound  in  the  first  years  of  his 
ministry;  though  the  habits  then  formed  remained 
strong  through  life.  They  manifest  unvarying  self- 
scrutiny,  and  prove  by  what  toil  his  character  and  mind 
were  formed.  A  tone  of  self-depreciation  runs  through 
them, — so  eager  is  he  to  detect  the  most  subtle  work- 
ings of  sin,  to  expel  it,  and  to  guard  against  its  return. 
They  reveal  an  incessant  warfare,  not  with  great  evils, 
but  with  small  ones, — with  the  remnants  of  evil  lurk- 
ing in  the  outskirts  of  his  nature.  It  was  by  elaborate 
analysis  of  his  own  tendencies,  and  unfaltering  aspira- 


SELF-DISCIPLINE.  185 

tion  to  the  perfect,  that  he  sought  to  mould  himself  to 
a  symmetrical  goodness. 

The  headings  of  these  papers  are  various  ;  such  as 
"Ends,"  "Permanent  Objects,"  "Promises,"  "Prac- 
ticable Excellence,"  "Improvements  required,"  "Re- 
lations," "Domestic  Reforms,"  "System,"  "Subjects 
of  Meditation,"  "  Heart,  Character,"  "  Rules  of  Life," 
"Directory  and  Review,"  &c.  It  is  noticeable  in  them, 
that  intellect  and  affections  are  subjected  to  the  same 
rigid  discipline.  Their  pervading  trait  is  devoutness. 

"  How  do  I  deserve  to  be  removed  from  my  labours, — I, 
who  labour  so  poorly,  and  with  such  low  motives!  The 
honour  of  my  work  I  have  forfeited.  Let  me  humble  my- 
self before  God,  and  pray  for  restoration  to  bis  service.'' 

"How  continually  selfishness  breaks  forth!  It  must  be 
resisted  perpetually.  Let  nothing  be  spoken  or  done  to 
display  self;  but  let  simple  love  be  the  spring.  Do  I 
know  what  such  love  will  rise  to,  if  cultivated  ?" 

"Let  me  meditate  on  such  subjects,  and  among  such 
scenes  and  society,  as  shall  humble  me,  raise  me  above 
human  opinion,  deliver  me  from  envy,  dispose  me  to  receive 
reproof,  and  make  me  active." 

"  Never  talk  of  pains,  sicknesses,  complaints,"  &c. 

"  Review  every  action,  after  performing  it;  consider  from 
what  principle  it  proceeded,  and  ask  forgiveness  for  what- 
ever sin  has  mingled  in  it." 

"  Let  me  not  waste  the  day  in  meditation  on  myself,  but 
be  vigorous  for  some  end,  and  every  evening  search  deeply 
into  my  heart." 

"  To  speak  on  interesting  subjects  is  the  ground  of  sin- 
cerity." 

"  Let  me,  when  in  society  with  those  who  differ  from  me. 
feel  the  importance  of  sincerity  and  independence.  Let 
me  consider  that  virtue  is  infinitely  more  important  than 


186  EARLY    MINISTRY. 

their  good  opinion.  Let  me  leave  to  God  the  impression 
which  I  make,  when  I  frankly  express  feelings  and  opinions. 
Let  me  remember,  that  ultimately  the  friendship  of  the 
good  will  be  secured  by  the  discharge  of  duty." 

"  In  conversation,  let  me  feel  that  I  shall  gain  more  by 
candour  than  by  victory." 

"Let  me  cherish  frankness  by  thinking  of  the  nobleness 
of  the  quality.  Restraint  prevents  expressions  of  affection, 
makes  society  painful,  chills  the  heart." 

"  Eternal  life  is  holy  life, — the  exercise  of  love  to  God 
and  all  beings." 

"  We  must  be  babes,  if  we  would  have  God  revealed  to 
us;  must  feel  the  weakness,  ignorance,  helplessness,  de- 
pendence, wants  of  little  children.  We  must  become  fools, 
and  see  that  we  know  nothing.  WTe  must  hunger  and  thirst, 
and  feel  a  void,  as  having  nothing.  Am  I  a  babe  ?  Do  I 
sit  low  ?  " 

"  Attain  a  single,  simple  heart.  Never  speak  to  God  or 
man  without  desiring  the  end  I  profess.  Let  me  beware  of 
formality  in  discharging  religious  duties.  Let  prayer,  con- 
versation, preaching,  all  flow  from  the  heart.  Let  me  first 
feel  the  force  of  truth  myself,  and  then  impress  it  upon 
others.  Let  me  feel  the  force  of  every  truth  and  every 
argument  with  which  I  am  conversant.  Let  me  be  not 
learned,  but  wise." 

"Let  me  apply  to  my  most  painful,  humble  duties  first 
and  most  attentively." 

"Let  me  continually  engage  in  labours  enjoined  by  God, 
and  with  the  ends  and  temper  he  requires,  and  feel  a  per- 
fect confidence  in  him  for  support.  Let  my  whole  life  be 
a  leaning  upon  God." 

"  Let  me  place  duty  on  the  ground  of  privilege,  and  con- 
sider every  opportunity  of  employing  time  usefully  a  favour ; 
and  ask  only,  What  is  duty  ?  in  every  state." 

"  When  any  particular  sin  recurs  to  my  mind,  let  me 


SELF-DISCIPLINE.  187 

connect  it  with  an  act  of  humiliation  before  God,  so  that 
even  sin  shall  lead  to  communion  with  God." 

"  Let  me  decide  upon  the  quantity  and  extent  of  any 
pleasure  which  is  right,  before  indulging  in  it,  so  as  to  avoid 
all  painful  balancing  of  mind.  Let  every  meal  be  an  exer- 
cise of  self-government;  eating  considerately,  and  recalling 
its  designed  end." 

"  Let  me  live  in  continual  preparation  for  prayer,  in  such 
a  state  of  mind  that  I  may  immediately  engage  in  it." 

"  Let  one  hour  after  dinner  each  day  be  given  to  inter- 
cession, to  meditating  upon  and  devising  good,  and  as  much 
of  the  afternoon  as  is  necessary  to  accomplishing  it." 

"  In  conversation,  let  me  draw  persons  from  evil  speaking 
and  contention,  and  painful  or  injurious  subjects,  by  catching 
some  thought  suggested,  and  making  it  the  ground  of  remark. " 

"  Let  me  strive  to  connect  every  personal  enjoyment  with 
acts  of  kindness  to  my  neighbour.  Whenever  I  enjoy,  let 
me  ask,  How  can  I  impart  and  diffuse  this  happiness  ?  and 
let  me  make  every  pleasure  a  bond  of  friendship,  a  ground 
of  communion,  and  esteem  it  chiefly  on  this  account. 
When  I  suffer,  let  me  ask,  How  can  I  relieve  similar 
suffering,  wherever  it  exists?  and  so  quicken  sympathy  and 
improve  experience." 

"  When  I  have  any  portion  of  time  not  devoted  to  any 
particular  purpose,  let  me  ask,  Can  I  not  spend  it  with 
God  ?  Let  me  seize  it  as  a  peculiarly  privileged  season." 

"  When  I  suffer  any  pain,  loss,  &c.,  let  me  first  ask,  not, 
How  shall  I  remove,  but,  How  shall  I  improve  it  ?  Let 
me  be  willing  to  suffer  for  this  end." 

"  Religious  exercises  are  God's  armour  to  defend  us,  the 
means  of  grace,  support  and  glory.  Hence  union  with 
Christ  is  a  ground  of  fruitfulness.  Christ  is  all-important 
to  us  as  a  substantial,  steady  exhibition  of  virtue,  not  fleet- 
ing or  unsubstantial." 


188  EARLY    MINISTRY. 

"  Have  access  to  God,  as  introduced  to  his  presence. 
Seek  God;  seek  the  sight  of  him;  observe  him  in  all 
things." 

"  Let  me  every  day  give  away  something,  and  daily 
deny  myself  something,  that  I  may  have  more  to  give." 

"  Be  very  careful  to  open  and  close  the  day  with  devo- 
tion. Pray  before  going  to  meals,  or  entering  society,  or 
engaging  in  study  and  composition.  On  Sunday,  let  me 
preach  over  to  myself  the  sermon  and  pray  for  its  success, 
before  I  go  to  the  desk ;  read  works  of  sober  devotion  till 
the  exercises  of  the  day  are  over;  after  service,  consider 
how  far  I  have  been  faithful  and  conducted  myself  as  a 
minister  should ;  after  supper,  retire  to  examine,  humble, 
and  devote  myself;  and  until  bed-time,  reflect  upon  the 
character  and  love  of  the  Redeemer." 

"  What  objects  interest  me  most?  Is  my  mind  in  such 
a  state,  that  a  certain  change  of  circumstances  would  leave 
me  desolate,  leave  my  mind  craving  and  empty,  leave  me 
nothing  to  live  for,  cast  a  gloom  on  all  prospects  ?  What 
is  it  round  which  my  affections  cleave  ?" 

"Have  my  thoughts  this  day  been  governed,  my  attention 
concentrated?  What  have  I  learned?  What  has  consti- 
tuted my  chief  pleasure  ?  Have  I  been  humble  ?  Have  I 
had  peace  ?  Have  I  acted  from  love  ?  Whom  have  I 
made  happy  ?  Have  I  been  sincere  ?  Have  I  been  in 
conversation  modest  and  ingenuous,  patient,  attentive? 
What  temptations  have  I  encountered  and  opposed  ? 
What  pleasant  objects  have  allured  ?  what  pains  terrified  ? 
Have  I  enjoyed  the  light  of  God's  countenance  ?  Whence 
has  this  day  taken  its  character  ?  " 

"  I  wish  to  gain  a  calm  energy,  a  strong  principle  of  love 
and  independence." 

"  I  wish  to  gain  clearness  of  conception,  a  distinct  and 
simple  mode  of  considering  objects.  I  should  be  careful  at 


SELF-DISCIPLINE.  189 

first  to  separate  from  a  subject  every  thing  foreign  to  it, 
and  place  it  in  as  clear  a  light  as  possible." 

"  Amidst  the  multitude  of  objects  perceived  and  remem- 
bered, there  must  be  selection.  Great  objects  make  great 
minds.  Hence  God,  eternity,  heaven,  the  kingdom  of 
Christ,  the  perfection  of  the  world,  our  highest  good, — 
these  should  be  our  objects." 

"  To  perceive  the  true  end  of  existence,  and  the  means 
to  that  end,  is  to  improve  the  mind.  We  have  a  complex 
end,  yet  a  harmonious  one.  The  glory  and  kingdom  of 
God,  the  holiness  and  happiness  of  mankind,  our  own 
eternal  good, — these  conspire." 

"A  wise  man  seeks  to  shine  in  himself;  a  fool  to  out- 
shine others.  The  former  is  humbled  by  a  sense  of  his 
infirmities ;  the  latter  is  lifted  up  by  the  discovery  of  the 
faults  of  others.  The  wise  man  considers  what  he  wants ; 
the  fool,  what  he  abounds  in.  The  wise  man  is  happy 
in  his  own  approbation ;  the  fool,  in  the  applause  of  his 
fellows." 

"  I  ought  to  place  myself  in  situations  where  there  will 
be  the  greatest  stimulus  to  active  thought  and  good  exer- 
tion— where  I  shall  find  no  comfort  without  these — where 
I  shall  be  called  to  think  and  act  impartially, — where 
every  natural  principle  and  relation  will  impel  me  in  the 
right  way.  Let  me  place  myself  under  obligation  to  live 
usefully.  Let  this  be  the  habitual  question, — How  can  I 
now  in  such  a  scene  imitate  Christ,  breathe  his  spirit  ?" 

"  Do  I  read  without  prejudice, — without  wishing  any  sys- 
tem or  doctrine  to  be  true, — without  desiring  to  find  any 
false, — with  a  willingness  to  receive  as  true,  and  to  obey, 
whatever  is  taught  in  Scripture, — with  a  sense  of  the  infi- 
nite importance  of  the  truth, — with  a  readiness  to  sacrifice 
any  pursuit,  wish,  gratification,  which  militates  with  it?" 

"  Should  I  not  propose  an  end,  when  I  write  ?  and  are 
there  not  certain  rules  which  will  apply  to  the  understand- 


190  EARLY   MINISTRY. 

ing,  and  by  conforming  to  which  the  most  important 
thoughts  and  illustrations  will  he  suggested?  What  is 
meant  by  a  flow  of  thought,  what  precedes,  what  causes  it  ? 
In  writing,  should  not  one  topic  be  always  kept  in  view  ? 
Attention  must  be  concentrated.  Thus  invention  will  be 
aided.  Thus  all  connected  ideas  will  start  forth ;  and  the 
whole  subject  will  be  viewed  in  an  extensive  light." 

"  Will  not  thoughts  take  a  direction  from  the  end,  tem- 
per and  disposition  ?  Are  not  thoughts  voluntary  ?  do  they 
not  originate  in  active  principles  ?  All  my  thoughts,  how- 
ever unobserved,  have  relations  expressive  of  my  character. 
Let  me  perpetually  examine  whether  subjects  of  thought 
are  not  so  related  to  myself  as  to  flatter  or  excite  some 
selfish  passion.  Let  me  not  be  an  egotist  in  thought." 

"  Is  not  every  thought  which  continues  in  the  mind,  in 
fact,  chosen  ?  Is  not  the  heart  exercised  about  it  ?  Am  I 
not  voluntary  in  cherishing  it  ?  Our  objects  of  thought 
should  be  chosen  with  a  view  to  sanctity  of  heart,  to  con- 
formation of  our  nature  to  God  and  heaven.  There  should 
be  some  rule  or  law  by  which  to  judge  our  thoughts.  One 
general  rule  is, — Are  my  thoughts  pleasing  to  God  ?  an- 
other is, — Are  they  useful  ?  " 

"  I  should  constantly  have  some  end  in  view,  in  thinking. 
My  thoughts  should  be  arranged;  there  should  be  some 
directing  principle  for  them.  A  passive  mind  rests  in  the 
perception  of  an  object.  The  active  mind  inquires  for  its 
use,  cause,  consequences,  relations,  signification,  past  state, 
tendency,  changes,  &c.  Every  thing  has  innumerable 
connections  and  dependencies.  These  are  the  objects  of 
thought.  In  connecting  with  a  thing  all  that  belongs  to  it, 
we  become  acquainted  with  it.  This  thorough  acquaintance 
with  all  objects  of  perception  is  what  we  should  propose." 

"  We  should  desire  to  have  every  idea  connected  in  our 
minds,  as  its  object  is  in  nature,  so  that  a  clear  view  of  it 
shall  arise  before  us.  Distinct  conception  is  important. 


SELF-DISCIPLINE.  191 

Wide  views  of  beings  and  events  should  be  desired.  We 
should  seek  to  see  all  things  in  their  just  extent,  clearly, 
forcibly.  All  thoughts  which  they  suggest  should  be  con- 
nected in  their  natural  order,  be  grasped  at  once,  so  as  to 
form  a  complete  view" 

"  Every  thing  may  be  viewed  as  a  sign  of  God's  will  and 
character;  and  our  thoughts,  after  tracing  an  object,  should 
at  length  ascend  to  this  all-important  end, —  Should  I  be 
sluggish  in  such  a  world  as  this?" 

"  The  perfection  of  mind  is  to  have  a  propensity  to  seek 
agreeable  and  interesting  objects,  to  have  attention  turn 
spontaneously  to  beauties  of  nature,  excellencies  of  human 
character,  God's  perfections.  A  mind  thus  filled  is  always 
improving,  always  happy.  A  mind  which  turns  to  disagree- 
able things,  party  agitations,  future  uncertainties,  &c.,  must 
be  depraved.  All  objects  may  be  viewed  as  expressions  of 
goodness." 

"  How  to  keep  the  mind  open  to  every  source  of  enjoy- 
ment, to  the  little  pleasures  which  surround  us  ?  There  is 
a  possibility  of  labouring  too  hard  for  this.  We  generally 
get  so  far  absorbed  in  some  care,  as  to  become  insensible 
to  the  variety  of  pleasing  objects.  Is  there  not  an  easy, 
disengaged  state  of  mind  very  favourable  to  a  succession  of 
minute  enjoyments  ?  There  is  sometimes  an  exhilaration 
of  mind  which  throws  a  glory  over  every  object,  and  seems 
to  give  new  sensibility  to  every  taste." 
.  "  He  is  miserable  who  makes  pleasure  his  business. 
God  designs  us  for  activity,  pursuit  of  ends,— efficiency. 
Action  originating  in  God,  and  attended  with  the  conscious- 
ness of  his  favour,  is  the  highest  source  of  enjoyment. 
Every  pleasure  should  be  an  expression  of  God's  pleasure, 
and  should  bind  us  to  those  around  us.  Does  not  this  state 
of  mind  invite  pleasures  of  every  description  ?  Does  it  not 
open  our  eyes  to  all  varieties  of  good  ?  " 

"  Is  it  not  possible  to  allow  no  unpleasant  objects  to 


192  EARLY   MINISTRY. 

dwell  upon  our  minds  any  longer  than  we  can  derive  benefit 
from  them  ?  May  we  not  bring  our  sensibilities  to  pain  very 
much  under  our  own  control,  and  use  them  only  for  disci- 
pline ?  How  should  every  opportunity  be  seized  for  invi- 
gorating our  minds  and  active  powers,  perseverance,  firm- 
ness, fortitude,  'application,  so  that  energetic,  successful, 
unwearied  labour  may  be  the  result !  " 

His  inward  state  is  with  like  simplicity  made  mani- 
fest in  papers  of  a  devotional  character,  written  ap- 
parently in  part  for  his  own  private  use,  in  part  as 
preparative  for  the  family  altar  and  the  pulpit.  The 
tone  of  his  piety,  pervading  as  it  did  all  thought  and 
action,  may  be  best  understood  from  a  few  extracts. 

"0  God!  the  Centre  of  all  pure  spirits,  the  Everlasting 
Goodness,  we  come  to  thee.  Thou  art  the  happiness  of 
heaven ;  and  thy  presence,  felt  by  the  soul  that  communes 
with  thee,  is  the  highest  good.  Ignorant  of  thee,  we 
know  nothing  aright;  wandering  from  thee,  we  lose  all 
light  and  peace  ;  forgetting  thee,  we  turn  our  minds  from 
the  noblest  object  of  thought ;  and  without  love  to  thee  we 
are  separated  from  infinite  loveliness,  and  from  the  only 
substantial  and  sufficient  source  of  joy.  Thou  hast  an  in- 
exhaustible fulness  of  life  ;  and  thine  unceasing  communi- 
cations take  nothing  from  thy  power  to  bless.  Thou  art 
infinitely  better  than  all  thy  gifts,  and  through  all  we  desire 
to  rise  to  thee." 

"  We  thank  thee  for  the  proofs  thou  givest  of  thy  essen- 
tial, pure,  and  perfect  benignity,  so  that  through  all  clouds 
and  darkness  we  can  see  a  gracious  Father.  In  this  world 
of  shadows,  this  fleeting  tide  of  things,  this  life  of  dreams, 
we  rejoice  that  there  is  a  Reality,  sure,  unchanging,  in 
which  we  may  find  rest ;  that  there  is  a  Power  which  can 


PRAYERS.  193 

cleanse  us  from  all  sin,  raise  us  to  all  virtue  and  happiness, 
and  give  us  endless  growth.  How  great  is  our  privilege, 
that  we  have  such  an  object  for  our  hope  and  trust, — that 
our  souls  may  contemplate  infinite  loveliness,  greatness, 
goodness, — that  we  may  at  all  times  commune  with  the 
Best  of  Beings!" 

"  For  thy  inviolable  faithfulness,  thy  impartial  justice, 
thy  unerring  wisdom,  thy  unfathomable  counsels,  thy  un- 
wearied care,  thy  tender  mercy,  thy  resistless  power,  we 
adore  thee.  For  the  splendour  spread  over  all  thy  works, 
and  still  more  for  the  higher  beauty  of  the  soul,  of  which 
the  brightness  of  creation  is  but  the  emblem  and  faint 
shadow,  we  thank  thee.  O,  let  thy  love  affect  our  hearts, 
let  us  feel  its  reality,  constancy,  tenderness !  To  thee  we 
owe  all.  Thine  is  the  health  of  our  bodies,  the  light  of 
our  minds,  the  warmth  of  affection,  the  guiding  voice  of 
conscience.  Whatever  knowledge  or  virtuous  impressions 
we  have  derived  from  the  society  of  friends,  the  conversa- 
tion of  the  wise  and  good,  the  care  of  instructors,  the  re- 
searches of  past  ages,  we  desire  to  trace  gratefully  to  thee. 
We  rejoice  that  we  depend  on  thee,  the  Father  of  Spirits, 
whose  requisitions  are  so  reasonable,  whose  government  is 
so  mild,  whose  influences  are  so  ennobling.  How  un- 
speakably great  is  thy  goodness  !  And  all  our  other  bless- 
ings are  as  nothing,  when  compared  with  the  sublime,  pure, 
infinite  glory,  to  which  we  are  called  by  the  gospel  of  thy 
Son." 

"  We  are  infinitely  honoured  in  being  under  thy  pro- 
tection, and  having  all  our  affairs  overruled  by  thy  provi- 
dence. We  thank  thee  for  every  good  influence  imparted 
to  our  minds,  for  every  holy  aspiration,  every  motive  of 
conscience ;  for  the  countless  materials  of  happiness,  and 
our  power  over  nature;  for  the  light  which  thou  hast 
thrown  upon  the  darkness  of  life's  trials ;  for  the  success 


194  PRAYERS. 

with  which  thou  hast  crowned  the  labours  of  reflecting  men 
in  exploring  thy  works ;  for  the  blessings  of  civilization 
and  knowledge ;  for  our  capacities  of  improvement ;  for 
our  domestic  relations,  and  for  their  influence  in  softening 
and  improving  our  nature ;  for  all  the  wisdom,  purity,  love, 
communicated  to  the  human  race ;  for  the  illustrious  ex- 
amples thou  hast  raised  up,  in  successive  ages,  of  en- 
lightened piety  and  disinterested  virtue ;  for  the  influence 
which  eminent  men  have  exerted,  for  the  splendour  they 
have  shed  on  human  nature,  for  the  encouragement  of 
their  example  in  the  pursuit  of  excellence ;  and  above  all, 
for  our  redemption  by  Jesus  Christ,  the  privilege  of  access 
to  thee,  the  hope  of  pardon,  the  influences  of  thy  spirit, 
the  prospect  of  immortality." 

"  We  thank  thee,  that  thou  hast  set  us  in  families,  in 
neighbourhoods,  in  communities ;  that  thou  hast  made  of 
one  blood  all  men,  thus  uniting  us  in  and  by  a  common 
nature  to  the  whole  human  race,  and  giving  us  means, 
motives,  and  opportunities  to  exercise  a  continually  ex- 
tending love.  We  thank  thee  for  Jesus  Christ ;  that  he 
came,  not  to  bless  one  people  or  one  age,  but  all  nations 
and  times ;  that  he  came  to  establish  such  a  religion,  to 
seal  such  a  covenant;  that  he  came  to  be  a  bright  ma- 
nifestation of  God,  to  give  everlasting  happiness.  For  a 
Saviour  so  excellent,  so  suited  to  our  wants,  so  fitted  to 
awaken  our  love,  to  inspire  holy  and  delightful  attachment, 
to  call  out  our  whole  hearts,  we  thank  thee.  We  bless 
thee  that  man's  sins  have  served  to  manifest  and  glorify 
thy  mercy,  to  show  forth  thine  essential,  inexhaustible 
goodness,  so  that  our  unworthiness  has  formed  a  new 
ground  for  love  and  thankfulness  to  thee." 

"  May  Christ  be  precious  to  us ;  teach  us  his  worth,  his 
glory,  so  that  we  may  love  him  and  rejoice  in  him  with  joy 
unspeakable.  May  a  sense  of  the  greatness  of  the  evils 


EARLY   MINISTRY.  195 

from  which  he  came  to  deliver,  and  of  the  blessings  which 
he  can  bestow,  excite  our  sensibility,  gratitude,  desire,  and 
lead  our  minds  to  dwell  on  him.  Let  sin  be  our  greatest 
burden ;  may  all  life's  ills  seem  light  in  comparison  with 
it;  may  we  groan  for  deliverance  from  it,  and  be  more 
earnest  in  resisting  it  than  in  resisting  all  other  evils ;  and 
may  we  welcome  Christ  as  our  saviour  from  it." 

"  Communicate  and  quicken  spiritual  life.  May  our 
souls  be  warm  with  life.  Save  us  from  an  inanimate  and 
sluggish  state.  Teach  us  thy  purity,  how  great  thy  abhor- 
rence of  evil,  how  irreconcilable  thy  hatred  of  it,  and  may 
we  all  partake  of  the  same  abhorrence  of  sin.  Increase  our 
sensibility  to  evil ;  may  we  shun  every  appearance  of  it  and 
repel  the  first  temptation  ;  and  in  a  world  where  example  is 
so  corrupt,  we  beseech  thee  to  arm  us  with  a  holy  fortitude." 

"  Inspire  us  with  a  generous  love  of  virtue,  of  rectitude, 
of  holiness.  May  we  prefer  it  even  to  life.  Animate  us 
to  adhere  to  good  in  every  danger.  May  nothing  on  earth 
move  us  or  shake  our  steadfastness.  Increase  our  sensi- 
bility to  good ;  may  we  see  more  and  more  its  loveliness 
and  beauty." 

"  Animate  us  to  cheerfulness.  May  we  have  a  joyful 
sense  of  our  blessings,  learn  to  look  on  the  bright  circum- 
stances of  our  lot,  and  maintain  a  perpetual  contentedness 
under  thy  allotments.  Fortify  our  minds  against  disappoint- 
ment and  calamity.  Preserve  us  from  despondency,  from 
yielding  to  dejection.  Teach  us  that  no  evil  is  intolerable 
but  a  guilty  conscience,  and  that  nothing  can  hurt  us,  if, 
with  true  loyalty  of  affection,  we  keep  thy  commandments 
and  take  refuge  in  thee." 

"  May  every  day  add  brightness  and  energy  to  our  con- 
ceptions of  thy  lovely  and  glorious  character.  Give  us  a 

VOL.    I.  K 


196  PRAYERS. 

deeper  sense  of  thy  presence,  and  instruct  us  to  nourish 
our  devoutness  by  every  scene  of  nature  and  every  event  of 
providence.  Assist  us  to  consecrate  our  whole  being  and 
existence  to  thee,  our  understandings  to  the  knowledge  of 
thy  character,  our  hearts  to  the  veneration  and  love  of  thy 
perfections,  our  wills  to  the  choice  of  thy  commands,  our 
active  energies  to  the  accomplishment  of  thy  purposes,  our 
lives  to  thy  glory,  and  every  power  to  the  imitation  of  thy 
goodness.  Be  thou  the  centre,  life,  and  sovereign  of  our 
eouls." 

Thus  earnestly  was  Mr.  Channing  seeking  perfect 
peace  and  unclouded  light.  He  believed,  and  acted  on 
the  faith,  that  only  the  purity  of  heart  which  is  blessed 
by  seeing  God  can  fit  a  man  to  be  the  spiritual  teacher 
of  his  fellows ;  and  as  the  condition  for  usefulness,  he 
opened  his  inmost  will  to  receive  the  Divine  life  of  love. 
It  certainly  is  not  surprising,  that  a  nature  so  sensitive 
and  tender,  especially  when  compelled  to  undue  ac- 
tion by  ill  health,  should  have  manifested  its  struggles 
in  a  somewhat  austere  gravity  of  manner.  But  water 
gains  crystal  clearness  by  percolating  the  sands ;  and 
the  very  severity  of  his  self- discipline  gave  sweetness 
more  and  more  to  his  social  intercourse. 

For  the  first  few  months  after  his  settlement,  Mr. 
Channing  lived,  as  we  have  seen,  with  some  parish- 
ioners and  friends.  But  even  their  devoted  kindness 
could  not  fill  the  void  in  his  affections ;  and  in  a  letter 
to  his  sister  Ann,  to  whom  he  was  most  fondly  attached, 
we  find  him  writing, — "  I  am  sad  ;  my  sister,  come 
and  cheer  me."  It  was  soon  in  his  power,  however, 
to  gratify  this  desire  for  domestic  love  by  removing  his 
mother  and  the  family  to  Boston.  His  brother  Francis 


DISINTERESTEDNESS.  197 

and  he  had  long  since  agreed,  that,  for  the  end  of  in- 
suring their  ability  to  aid  their  mother  and  her  other 
children,  one  of  them  should  remain  unmarried  for  at 
least  ten  years ;  and  as  his  salary  was  a  more  certain 
income  than  his  brother's  professional  gains,  who,  though 
rapidly  rising  to  distinction  as  a  lawyer,  was  not  yet 
established  in  lucrative  business,  he  now  took  it  upon 
himself  to  fulfil  the  arrangement.  So  he  wrote  to  his 
mother  that  he  had  a  parsonage  which  he  could  not 
occupy,  and  fuel  which  he  could  not  burn ;  and  that 
she  would  save  him  much  waste  and  trouble  by  turning 
them  to  good  use.  He  well  knew  that  she  could  not 
afford  to  leave  her  house  and  large  garden  at  Newport, 
without  such  an  addition  to  her  means  as  he  thus 
placed  at  her  disposal ;  but  he  chose  to  represent  him- 
self as  the  person  obliged,  by  pleading  his  need  of  her 
guardianship.  She  yielded  to  his  affectionate  appeal, 
and  in  a  short  time  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing 
the  home  circle  gathered  round  him,  beneath  his  own 
roof,  blessed  by  his  bounty,  and  enjoying  the  best 
opportunities  for  happiness  and  improvement. 

The  tact  with  which  he  sought  to  conceal — even 
from  himself,  if  it  might  be — his  kindness,  proved  its 
temper.  His  father  had  left  so  small  a  property,  that 
it  was  quite  inadequate  to  the  support  and  education  of 
the  growing  family ;  and  by  surrendering  for  their  use 
the  greater  part  of  his  salary  William  changed  their 
condition  from  that  of  want  to  one  of  competence. 
But  while  thus  supplying  them  with  the  means  of  com- 
fort and  culture,  his  words  and  acts  rather  tended  to 
give  the  impression  that  they  were  nowise  dependent 
upon  him,  but  only  on  the  family  estate.  Without,  of 
course,  employing  deception,  he  yet  was  sedulous  to 

K  2 


198  EARLY   MINISTRY. 

keep  from  the  partakers  of  his  henefits  the  knowledge 
that  he  was  their  benefactor.  "  I  was  often  amused, 
and  still  oftener  filled  with  veneration,"  writes  a  brother, 
'*  by  the  mode  in  which  he  talked  of  the  necessity  of 
punctually  paying  his  board  to  our  mother,  and  placed 
his  funds  in  her  hands,  as  he  said,  for  safe  keeping, 
withdrawing  only  such  trifling  sums  as  he  absolutely 
needed."  All  extra  fees  were  given,  as  their  rightful 
perquisite,  to  his  sisters ;  and  as  years  passed  on,  and 
the  wants  and  desires  of  the  various  members  of  the 
family  unfolded,  each  day  but  gave  new  proofs  of  his 
ever  thoughtful,  ever  delicate  affection.  His  outlays 
for  them,  in  addition  to  his  large  charities  abroad, 
were  so  considerable,  that,  though  his  salary  was  for 
those  times  ample,  being  at  first  twelve  hundred,  and 
afterwards  fifteen  hundred  d'-Mars,  he  never  laid  up  a 
cent,  and  was  often  wholly  destitute.  "  Well  do  I 
remember,"  said  one  of  his  near  relatives,  "  how 
pained  he  was  at  the  time  of  my  marriage,  when  he 
wished  to  make  me  a  wedding  present,  and  had  but 
fifty  dollars  to  give.  He  could  not  help  then  telling 
me  how  poor  he  was."  Thus,  for  ten  years  and  more, 
did  he  faithfully  redeem  the  first  words  spoken  to  his 
mother  after  his  ordination,  when  she  said, — "  Now, 
William,  I  must  give  you  up!"  "  O,  no!"  he  re- 
plied, "  you  shall  never  find  that  the  duties  of  the 
Christian  minister  are  inconsistent  with  those  of  the 
son." 

A  slight  sketch  of  his  constant  little  sacrifices  in  the 
petty  details  of  life  may  most  clearly  show  how  he 
appeared  to  those  who  lived  with  him  in  the  nearest 
relations,  and  who  knew  him  best.  He  had  always 
been  strict  in  his  habits  of  self-denial,  in  food,  dress, 


CARE    OF   THE    FAMILY.  199 

and  every  mode  of  expenditure ;  but  he  was  now  more 
simple  than  ever,  and  seemed  to  have  become  incapable 
of  any  form  of  self-indulgence.  He  took  the  smallest 
room  in  the  house  for  his  study,  though  he  might  easily 
have  commanded  one  more  light,  airy,  and  in  every 
way  more  suitable ;  and  chose  for  his  sleeping- chamber 
an  attic,  which  he  shared  with  a  younger  brother.  The 
furniture  of  the  latter  might  have  answered  for  the  cell 
of  an  anchorite,  and  consisted  of  a  hard  mattress  on  a 
cot-bedstead,  plain  wooden  chairs  and  table,  with  mat- 
ting on  the  floor.  It  was  without  fire-,  and  to  cold 
he  was  through  life  extremely  sensitive ;  but  he  never 
complained,  or  appeared  in  any  way  to  be  conscious 
of  inconvenience.  "  I  recollect,"  says  his  brother, 
"  after  one  most  severe  night,  that  in  the  morning  he 
sportively  thus  alluded  to  his  suffering : — '  If  my  bed 
were  my  country,  I  should  be  somewhat  like  Bona- 
parte ;  I  have  no  control  except  over  the  part  that  I 
occupy ;  the  instant  I  move,  frost  takes  possession.'  " 
In  sickness  only  would  he  change  for  the  time  his 
apartment,  and  accept  a  few  comforts.  The  dress,  too, 
that  he  habitually  adopted,  was  of  most  inferior  quality  ; 
and  garments  were  constantly  worn  which  the  world 
would  call  mean,  though  an  almost  feminine  neatness 
preserved  him  from  the  least  appearance  of  personal 
neglect.  The  only  luxury  he  would  indulge  himself  in 
was  annually  to  lay  out  a  small  sum  in  increasing  his 
scanty  library.  "  Never  did  I  know  him  to  be  guilty 
of  a  selfish  act,"  testifies  his  brother ;  "  and  he  shrank 
from  any  mention  of  his  incessant  kindness,  as  if  the 
least  allusion  to  it  gave  him  pain."  These  few  me- 
mentos are,  indeed,  quite  unpretending;  but  their 
very  humbleness  may  serve  to  show  how  vital  was  the 


200  EARLY    MINISTRY. 

root  of  love  from  which  such  ever  fresh  disinterested- 
ness hloomed  forth. 

A  few  further  extracts  from  his  journals  will  exhibit 
how  his  social  affections  were  trained  to  an  unreserved 
loyalty  to  conscience. 

"Let  me  pay  peculiar  attention  to  family  prayer,  to 
make  Scripture  interesting  and  prayer  solemn.  Let  me 
pray  for  them  in  secret  daily.  Let  me  attend  to  their 
reading,  improve  their  minds.  Let  me  attend  to  the  reli- 
gion of  the  domestics,  and  give  them  equal  privileges  with 
the  rest  on  the  Sabbath  and  in  the  family  exercises.  Let 
me  regard  the  wants  of  all,  and  live  sacrificing  my  own  will 
and  desires  to  theirs,  abounding  in  affectionate  services, 
and  remembering  them  always  as  those  whom  God  has 
pointed  out  to  me  as  my  peculiar  objects. 

"  Let  me  endeavour  to  interest  all  in  good  pursuits,  con- 
tinually propose  kind  ends,  make  active  benevolence  their 
spring,  and  excite  them  to  a  course  of  pious,  loving  life. 

"Let  me  in  conversation  avoid  finding  fault,  satire, 
severity ;  let  me  express  the  spirit  and  power,  rather  than 
the  speculations,  of  divinity;  let  me  communicate  liberally 
whatever  knowledge  I  acquire,  and  raise  our  social  inter- 
course. 

"  Let  me  encourage  and  share  innocent  pleasures,  con- 
tribute all  in  my  power  to  their  happiness,  make  them  feel 
my  affection,  and  convince  them  that  love,  not  bigoted 
severity,  leads  to  my  cautious  and  solemn  admonition. 

"  Let  me  cultivate  harmony  and  mutual  affection,  strive 
to  make  home  interesting  from  peace  and  love  and  mutual 
interest  and  regard. 

"  Encourage  private  prayer  morning  and  evening  among 
them. 

"  Let  me  introduce  pleasing  and  impressive  works  on 
religion,  which  will  lead  to  conversation,  inquiry,  &c. 


MANNERS.  201 

"  Let  me  introduce  society,  entertaining,  instructive,  and 
tending  to  moral  and  religious  improvement. 

"  Let  me  observe  what  in  other  families  tends  to  happi- 
ness, and  improvement,  and  religion. 

"  Let  me  promote  unity  of  sentiment,  especially  on  reli- 
gious and  most  interesting  subjects. 

"  Let  me  live  with  them  as  immortal  beings,  and  have  in 
view  the  end  of  present  existence. 

"  In  the  morning,  when  I  see  any  of  my  friends  after  the 
night's  separation,  let  me  receive  them  as  new  gifts  from 
God,  as  raised  from  the  dead. 

"  My  mother  has  been  quite  sick.  I  have  never  seen  her 
so  much  reduced.  For  a  day  or  two  my  fears  were  not  a 
little  excited.  I  felt  more  sensibly  than  I  ever  did  before, 
that  this  nearest,  best  of  earthly  friends  was  mortal. 
Thanks  to  a  merciful  Providence  she  is  regaining  her 
strength.  It  is  a  pleasing  consideration,  that  her  children 
have  been  able  to  repay  a  little  of  her  kindness ;  but  how 
little  can  parental  kindness  be  requited !  " 

That  his  sense  of  duty  was  at  this  time  even  tyran- 
nical Mr.  Channing  recognised  in  later  life,  and  re- 
gretted that  this  stern  nurse  had  cramped  the  action  of 
his  native  impulses  by  too  close  swathing ;  but  he  had 
not  then  learned  that  the  true  art  of  moral  culture  is  to 
balance  extravagant  tendencies  by  quickening  those 
which  are  languid,  and  that  growth  is  a  safer  means  of 
harmony  in  character  than  repression.  He  painfully 
felt,  too,  that  his  solemnity  repelled  those  whom  he 
longed  to  win,  and  cast  a  shade  over  the  circle  he 
would  have  rejoiced  to  brighten.  And,  indeed,  had  it 
not  been  for  his  greatness  of  heart,  dignity,  assiduous 
affection,  and  evidently  lofty  aims,  his  constant  staid- 
ness  of  deportment  would  have  been  irksome.  For  the 


202  EARLY    MINISTRY. 

other  members  of  the  family  presented  in  manners  an 
amusing  contrast  to  this  heloved  friend,  whom,  highly 
as  they  honoured  him,  it  was  not  in  their  will  to  imi- 
tate. The  mother,  as  we  have  seen,  had  inherited 
from  her  father  a  vivacious  temper,  keen  preceptions,  a 
wit  as  sharp  as  it  was  droll,  and  a  sincerity  of  thought 
and  speech,  which  made  light  of  conventionalities,  and 
swept  away  respectable  pretences  like  cobwebs.  Her 
sallies,  given  out  in  the  plainest  Anglo-Saxon,  some- 
times sounded  strangely  as  a  response  to  her  son's 
guarded  words,  especially  when  the  characters  of  others, 
or  passing  events,  were  under  discussion.  And  the 
hilarity  of  the  younger  brothers  and  sisters  would  have 
jarred  in  discord  with  his  taciturn  ways,  had  not  his 
considerateness  been  so  genuine.  Self-possessed  in  the 
midst  of  them,  however,  he  allayed  all  differences,  and 
melted  them  into  one.  He  devoted  himself  also  to 
the  culture  of  his  sisters,  read  and  conversed  with  them 
at  certain  portions  of  the  day,  was  watchful  over  their 
manners,  and  as  they  came  forward  in  life  schooled 
himself  to  leave  behind  the  student's  gown,  and  ac- 
companied them  into  the  delightful  circles  which  the 
influence  of  his  talents  opened  to  the  members  of  his 
household.  In  the  friendly  groups,  too,  which  his 
mother's  hospitable  and  genial  temper  gathered  round 
her  fireside,  he  endeavoured  to  act  his  part.  But  it 
was  plain  that  he  was  not  at  home  in  festive  scenes  of 
any  kind.  His  conversation  was  at  all  times  and  in  all 
places,  connected,  grave,  and  on  themes  of  high  interest. 
He  could  not  unbend.  And  intent  as  he  was  on  sub- 
jects which  absorbed  his  whole  spiritual  energy,  he 
actually  had  neither  inclination  nor  even  the  sense  of 
liberty  to  relax.  In  a  word,  he  was  striving  for  ever  to 


GENEROSITY.  203 

press  onward  and  upward ;  and  chiefly  longed  to  bear 
those  whom  he  loved  with  him  in  his  ascent. 

But  though  thus  serious,  he  was  most  loving.  His 
gentleness  of  character  showed  itself  in  all  social  rela- 
tions. If  controversies  and  warm  debates  arose,  he 
had  the  skill  to  smooth  the  storm  by  soft  words  and 
calm  looks.  If  scandal  was  introduced,  he  changed  the 
topic ;  and  if  any  one's  reputation  was  attacked,  he 
would  say,  with  quiet  firmness, — "  Pray,  stop !  for  if 
you  continue  these  remarks,  I  shall  feel  bound  to  re- 
peat every  word  to  the  person  of  whom  you  are  speak- 
ing." The  effect  was  to  stifle  all  desire  of  crimination. 
The  same  disposition  appeared  in  his  liberality  toward 
those  who  differed  in  religious  opinions.  "  William  is 
no  Quaker,  you  see,  said  his  mother  one  day  to  a 
Friend  with  whom  he  was  pleasantly  talking  upon  their 

opposite  views.     "  No,"  answered  he;  "  and  E did 

not  expect  to  find  me  one;  but  there  is  a  common 
ground  of  Christian  feeling,  where,  without  distinction 
of  name,  we  can  unite  in  belief  that  the  sincere  wor- 
shippers of  God  are  the  accepted  of  God." 

As  another  illustration,  this  little  incident  may  be 
mentioned.  Busy  in  studies,  in  visits  among  his  parish, 
and  in  charitable  movements,  or  calls  on  the  sick  and 
needy,  the  week  passed  away  and  left  him  on  Saturday 
usually  unprepared.  A  coloured  teacher,  who  was 
occupied  in  his  school  duties  on  other  days,  but  who 
was  anxious  to  improve  himself  by  Mr.  Channing's 
society,  took  occasion  of  the  leisure  afternoon  to  visit 
him,  and  frequently  prolonged  his  stay  into  the  evening. 
The  mother  was  greatly  annoyed  at  seeing  her  son's 
last  precious  hours  thus  broken  in  upon.  But  though 
it  obliged  him  oftentimes  to  sit  up  late  in  the  night, 

K.3 


204  EARLY    MINISTRY. 

and  to  finish  his  sermons  while  the  morning  hell  was 
ringing,  he  would  never  allow  his  coloured  friend  to  be 
denied. 

Generosity  pervaded  his  conduct.  To  the  erring  he 
was  consistently  forbearing.  Two  instances  may  show 
this  trait.  A  domestic,  in  whom  the  family  placed 
confidence,  professed  "to  be  converted  to  religion," 
at  some  revival  in  the  society  to  which  she  belonged, 
and  was  very  strict  in  her  devotions  and  attendance  at 
meeting.  The  members  of  the  family  soon  detected 
her,  however,  in  the  commission  of  indiscriminate  petty 
thefts.  When  accused,  she  was  highly  indignant  at 
being  suspected ;  but  as  the  property  was  found  in  her 
possession,  her  hypocrisy  was  clear.  Mr.  Channing 
did  nothing  in  relation  to  the  affair  but  to  converse 
with  her,  giving  her  the  most  earnest  counsel  in  his 
power,  and  then  allowed  her  to  depart.  He  expressed 
for  her  only  the  deepest  pity ;  mentioning  as  his  reason, 
that  "  she  had  been  brought  up  in  an  almshouse,  and 
had  received  no  good  influences  in  early  life."  The 
amount  taken  was  quite  large,  but  he  considered  it 
wrong  to  inflict  a  legal  penalty  upon  one  whom  society 
had  so  neglected,  and,  if  he  had  followed  his  own  in- 
timation, would  have  kept  her  in  his  service,  and  have 
sought  to  reclaim  her.  On  another  occasion,  though 
at  a  somewhat  later  period  of  life,  he  rented  a  place  in 
the  country  for  the  summer,  with  the  obligation  on  his 
part  of  keeping  it  in  order.  The  gardener  whom  he 
hired,  however,  proved  faithless,  sold  the  valuable  vege- 
tables and  fruits,  and  injured  the  grounds  and  trees  by 
his  carelessness,  leaving  the  loss  to  fall  on  his  employer. 
The  man  became  sick,  and  for  the  end  of  encouraging 
him  to  reform,  Mr.  Channing  paid  him  his  full  wages, 


ILL   HEALTH.  205 

and,  after  exposing  to  him  the  baseness  of  his  conduct, 
gave  him  his  best  advice  and  pardoned  the  offence. 

The  distaste  for  social  enjoyments,  which  has  been 
noticed,  doubtless  was  increased  by  Mr.  Channing's 
poor  state  of  health;  for  lassitude  followed  all  exertion, 
and  physical  depression  cast  a  chill  upon  a  naturally 
glowing  temper.  And  for  the  end  of  enabling  all  to 
discriminate  between  the  essential  man  and  the  acci- 
dents of  his  organization,  it  seems  necessary  to  set  this 
fact  of  his  chronic  debility  in  a  distinct  light.  In  our 
present  ignorance  of  the  relations  of  body  to  spirit, 
indeed,  we  can  never  decide  how  far  morbid  action  in 
either  is  a  cause  or  an  effect ;  but  their  mutual  depend- 
ence is  plain  enough.  It  needs  only  to  be  said,  then, 
that  from  the  time  of  his  residence  at  Richmond  till  his 
death  he  never  knew  a  day  of  unimpaired  vigour.  The 
common  services  of  the  pulpit  prostrated  him ;  unusual 
efforts  brought  fever  alternating  with  dulness ;  earnest 
conversation  cost  sleepless  nights ;  exercise,  except  of 
the  most  moderate  kind,  was  rather  exhausting  than 
refreshing;  he  yearly  lost  weeks  and  months  by  in- 
ability to  study  or  write ;  and  to  one  who  knew  him,  it 
only  seemed  surprising  that  he  could  accomplish  so 
much.  Had  he  but  retained  the  buoyancy  of  early 
years,  he  might  by  scholarship  and  by  public  and  social 
labours  have  shed  abroad  a  light,  beside  which  his 
actual  success  would  be  dim.  On  the  other  hand,  in- 
deed, it  may  be  asked  whether  his  river  of  life  did  not 
gain  depth  from  the  narrow  channel  through  which  it 
was  forced  to  roll  ?  Fortitude,  purity,  concentration, 
may  have  in  some  degree  compensated  him  for  lack  of 
energy.  But  to  one  who  believes  that  God  has  for  ever 
established  a  harmony  between  the  spiritual  and  natural 


206  EARLY   MINISTRY. 

worlds,  it  must  in  all  cases  appear  probable  that  the 
teachings  of  health  will  be  more  large,  sound,  varied, 
rich,  than  those  of  sickness.  Yet  he  struggled  bravely 
with  his  fate.  He  knew  that  his  own  imprudence  had 
done  much  to  cause  his  infirmity,  and  humbly  accepted 
the  limits  which  it  imposed,  while  he  steadily  sought  to 
regain  and  keep  the  largest  measure  of  power.  "  The 
very  scrupulous  care  that  he  took  of  himself,"  writes  a 
sister,  "  was  a  sacrifice  to  duty.  Most  beautiful,  too, 
was  his  thoughtfulness  to  avoid  being  a  burden  upon 
others.  His  patience  was  unvarying.  I  can  recall  one 
instance  of  a  feverish  attack  during  the  heat  of  summer. 
We  had  been  fanning  him  during  the  day,  and  he  had 
seemed  as  tranquil  as  a  sleeping  infant;  but  to  our 
great  surprise,  when  the  physician  came  in  towards 
evening,  he  entreated  him  to  give  him  something  to 
allay  the  restlessness  which  was  almost  beyond  his 
bearing  or  power  of  control.  But  when  was  he  other- 
wise than  gentle ! "  Thus  his  very  weaknesses  formed 
a  new  bond  of  affectionate  respect.  He  saw  with  pity 
the  habits  of  effeminacy  and  self-indulgence  which  con- 
stant regard  to  one's  own  state  too  often  breeds  in  the 
invalid,  and  systematically  guarded  against  such  tempt- 
ations. With  the  pride  of  an  energetic  character,  too, 
he  felt  the  shame  of  seeming  to  be  a  valetudinarian. 
But  the  keenest  pain  he  suffered  was  from  being  forced 
to  halt  when  he  would  have  hastened,  and  to  leave  un- 
tried many  a  promising  plan  of  self-culture  and  of 
usefulness.  This  was  the  true  cross  to  a  spirit  so 
earnest  in  hope,  comprehensive  in  sympathy,  conscien- 
tious, and  brave;  and  nothing  could  have  been  more 
manly  than  the  uncomplaining  serenity  with  which  he 
bore  it. 


PREACHING.  207 

Mr.  Channing  chiefly  lamented  his  want  of  strength 
because  he  was  thereby  hampered  in  his  private  studies 
and  in  schemes  of  professional  activity.  He  did  what 
he  could,  and  too  often  much  more  than  he  ought,  but 
fell  far  short  of  his  ideal,  and  saw  all  round  him  fields 
white  for  the  harvest,  when  his  arm  was  too  feeble  to 
put  in  the  sickle  and  reap.  Yet,  from  his  first  appear- 
ance in  the  pulpit,  he  made  a  sensation  such  as  had 
been  long  unknown  in  Boston,  distinguished  as  many 
of  her  ministers  justly  were.  The  highest  among 
them,  Dr.  Kirkland,  said  truly  of  him  and  of  Buck- 
minster,  who  came  forward  two  years  later,  that  they 
had  introduced  "  a  new  era  in  preaching."  Their  con- 
gregations were  thronged;  and  when  either  of  them 
was  to  take  his  turn  at  the  Thursday  lecture  in  Chaun- 
cey  Place,  the  usually  thin  audience  at  that  antiquated 
service  became  a  crowd. 

Immediately  after  Mr.  Channing's  settlement,  the 
small  society  in  Federal  Street  was  much  enlarged  by 
the  numbers  drawn  around  the  young,  devoted,  eloquent 
pastor ;  and  from  that  time  forward  steadily  grew,  until, 
in  1809,  the  old  church  was  taken  down,  and  the  corner- 
stone laid  of  the  large  building  which  now  occupies 
its  place.  The  devoutly  disposed  in  the  community 
looked  to  him  with  the  hope  that  he  might  be  a  means 
of  fanning  once  more  to  flame  the  smouldering  ashes 
on  the  altars  of  piety.  The  seriousness  of  his  deport- 
ment, the  depth  and  sweetness  of  his  voice,  the  pathos 
with  which  he  read  the' Scriptures  and  sacred  poetry,  the 
solemnity  of  his  appeals,  his  rapt  and  kindling  enthu- 
siasm, his  humble,  trustful  spirit  of  prayer,  his  subdued 
feeling,  so  expressive  of  personal  experience,  made  re- 
ligion a  new  reality ;  while  his  whole  air  and  look  of 


208  EARLY   MINISTRY. 

spirituality  won  them  to  listen  by  its  mild  and  some- 
what melancholy  beauty.  The  most  trifling  saw  in  him 
a  man  thoroughly  in  earnest,  who  spoke  not  of  dreams 
and  fictions,  but  of  facts  with  which  he  was  intimately 
conversant ;  and  the  serious  gladly  welcomed  one  who 
led  the  way  and  beckoned  them  nearer  to  the  holy  of 
holies  which  they  aspired  to  enter.  Intellectual  people, 
too,  were  attracted  by  the  power  and  grace  of  his  pulpit 
addresses.  He  opened  to  them  a  large  range  of  thought, 
presented  clear,  connected,  and  complete  views  of  various 
topics,  roused  their  faculties  of  discernment  by  nice  dis- 
criminations and  exact  statements,  and  gratified  their 
taste  by  the  finished  simplicity  of  his  style.  But  the 
novelty,  perhaps,  that  chiefly  stirred  his  audiences  was 
the  directness  with  which  he  even  then  brought  his 
Christian  principles  to  bear  upon  actual  life.  With  no 
flights  of  mystic  exaltation,  forgetful  in  raptures  of  the 
earth,  with  no  abstract  systems  of  metaphysical  theo- 
logy, with  no  coldly  elegant  moral  essays,  did  he 
occupy  the  minds  of  his  hearers,  but  with  near  and 
sublime  objects  made  evident  by  faith,  with  lucid  truths 
approved  alike  by  Scripture  and  by  conscience,  and 
with  duties  pressed  urgently  home  upon  all  as  rules 
for  daily  practice.  He  saw,  and  made  others  see,  that 
life  was  no  play-place,  but  a  magnificent  scene  for 
glorifying  God,  and  a  rich  school  for  the  education  of 
spirits.  He  showed  to  men  the  substance,  of  which 
surrounding  appearances  are  the  shadow ;  and  behind 
transient  experiences  revealed  the  spiritual  laws  which 
they  express.  Thus  he  gathered  round  him  an  en- 
larging circle  of  devoted  friends,  who  gratefully  felt 
that  they  drank  in  from  him  new  life.  The  old  mem- 
bers of  the  Society,  too,  for  the  most  part  simple  people 


INTEREST   IN    HIS    PEOPLE.  209 

of  plain  manners,  took  the  heartiest  delight  in  his  ser- 
vices, while  feeling  just  pride  in  his  talents.  And  the 
few  distinguished  persons  of  the  congregation  knew 
well  how  to  appreciate  his  rare  gifts,  and  to  extend  his 
fame.  Thus  was  he  in  every  way  favourably  situated 
to  call  out  his  highest  powers ;  and  his  journals  show 
how  ardently  he  strove  to  fulfil  the  hopes  which  he 
knew  were  cherished  for  his  usefulness. 

"  My  great  end  is  the  promotion  of  the  moral  and  re- 
ligious interests  of  mankind,  the  cause  of  virtue,  the  gospel. 
This  is  my  occupation.  This  end  may  be  accomplished 
every  where.  Let  me  make  this  study  the  great  end  of 
life.  Let  me  study  for  this.  Let  my  exercise,  relaxation, 
visits,  prayers,  all  have  this  in  view.  Let  me  eat  and  sleep 
for  this.  Let  me  never  lose  sight  of  my  flock,  constantly 
oversee  them,  never  leave  them.  Let  me  strive  to  make 
them  fruitful  to  God,  direct  and  excite  exertion  for  good, 
exhibit  an  example  of  the  life  of  God." 

"  Weekly  lectures  are  highly  important.  What  an  in- 
fluence in  the  commonwealth  would  a  general  attention  to 
religion  in  the  capital  exert !  May  not  the  present  in- 
creased interest  be  a  sprinkling  before  the  shower?" 

"  Meetings  to  pray  for  the  spirit.  Let  me  when  among 
Christians,  when  visiting  them,  pray  with  them,  that  men 
may  be  awakened  to  religious  attention,  and  desire  that 
God  be  glorified,  Christ  obeyed,  heaven  sought." 

"  Religious  union.  How  to  make  them  feel  a  desire  of 
assisting,  quickening  each  other  in  a  religious  course.  Visit 
the  church  often  in  a  religious  manner.  Pray  in  private 
and  in  public  for  this  union.  Make  this  the  subject  of  con- 
versation. Meetings  of  the  church ;  and  in  order  to  make 
them  useful,  let  me  labour  to  become  an  extemporaneous 
preacher.  The  church  should  feel  that  on  their  prayers 
and  zeal  the  salvation  of  others  depends.  Let  me  now 


210  EARLY   MINISTRY. 

strive  to  quicken  my  church,  while  attention  is  awakened 
to  religion." 

"  The  influence  of  the  church  I  need.  I  can  do  little 
myself.  I  want  the  brethren  to  be  able  to  converse,  the 
sisters  at  home  to  be  able  to  instil  into  the  niinds  of  their 
children  religious  truth.  I  should  lend  suitable  books,  exalt 
their  intellectual  powers,  direct  their  habitual  thoughts. 

"  Have  I  not  reason  to  fear  that  many  are  destitute  of 
love  to  God,  to  Christ,  to  the  church,  to  man?  Do  they 
not  confide  in  a  course  of  negative  goodness?  Are  they 
not  full  of  false  hopes  from  the  performance  of  particular 
duties,  abstinence  from  great  crimes  ?  Are  they  not  easy 
and  satisfied  because  they  give  no  positive  evidence  of 
irreligion,  not  because  they  have  positive  evidence  of  re- 
ligion? Do  they  not  mistake  habit  for  principle?  Do  the 
hopes,  pleasures,  duties,  difficulties  of  religion  form  any 
part  of  domestic  conversation?  Is  holiness  an  end?  Is 
God  all  in  all  ?  Is  Christ  all  in  all  to  them  ?  Is  love  the 
habit  of  their  soul,  operating  in  their  whole  conduct?" 

"  Christ  came  to  recover  men  from  sin.  A  change  of 
heart  is  the  object  of  the  gospel.  In  this  consists  the  re- 
demption of  Christ.  It  becomes  men  to  weep,  to  feel  true, 
hearty  sorrow  at  sin  itself,  to  abhor  and  condemn  them- 
selves as  without  excuse,  to  feel  themselves  dependent  upon 
free,  unmerited,  unobligated,  sovereign  grace  for  pardon 
and  renewal.  Repentance  includes  unconditional  submis- 
sion, choice  and  desire  that  God  should  reign,  should  ac- 
complish his  will,  should  dispose  of  his  creatures  as  seems 
to  him  best.  It  supposes  subjection  of  ourselves  and  others 
wholly  to  his  will.  It  gives  all  things  in  all  times  and  all 
places  to  him  as  his  own  for  ever." 

"  The  spirit  of  God  is  the  blessing  of  the  new  covenant. 
The  knowledge,  love,  imitation,  service,  and  enjoyment  of 
God  through  eternity  are  all  included  in  this  gift.  There 
can  be  no  other  rational,  eternal  blessedness.  The  spirit 


INTEREST    IN    HIS    PEOPLE.  211 

of  God  operates  on  the  heart,  creates  new  exercises,  and 
dwells  in  the  souls  of  Christians  by  constantly  and  immedi- 
ately supporting  all  good  affections.  Every  man  must  be 
new-born,  have  a  new  heart,  a  new  principle,  end,  motive, 
disposition,  a  change  by  the  Spirit  into  a  meek,  submissive, 
self- renouncing,  self-abhorring,  benevolent  state  of  soul, 
before  he  can  believe,  approve,  choose  the  gospel,  and  re- 
ceive the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

"  I  must  make  the  knowledge  of  divine  truth  my  end, 
and  therefore  labour  to  preserve  a  mind  fitted  to  discover, 
and  a  heart  ready  to  receive,  instruction.  The  disposal  of 
time,  food,  &c.,  should  all  be  directed  to  this  object ;  and 
every  truth  I  receive  I  should  labour  immediately  to  im- 
press on  my  own  heart  and  on  others." 

"  Let  me  unite  with  the  most  serious  statedly  in  prayer, 
for  the  revival  of  religion  in  the  society.  Let  the  pro- 
motion of  religion  be  the  sole  end  of  all  exertions ;  let 
nothing  else  be  named.  0  the  happiness  of  a  religious 
society ! " 

"  I  ought  to  bear  my  people  on  my  heart ;  feel  the  worth 
of  their  souls,  that  they  have  the  capacity  to  serve,  enjoy, 
glorify  God  for  ever ;  feel  continual  heaviness  and  sorrow 
for  their  neglect  of  God ;  be  fervent,  unceasing  in  prayer ; 
make  their  spiritual  prosperity  my  joy  ;  indulge  in  no  plea- 
sure, engage  in  no  pursuit,  which  may  not  subserve  this 
end ;  let  every  worldly  interest  which  will  drive  them 'from 
my  mind  be  resigned ;  let  my  highest  anxiety,  fear,  hope, 
desire,  affection,  be  exercised  toward  them,  that  God  may 
have  a  pfeople  among  them.  Let  me  be  the  servant  of  the 
least  among  them  for  this  purpose." 

"  Let  me  never  talk  of  my  zeal  for  souls,  except  with 
God ;  let  me  avoid  all  egotism,  and  carefully  abstain  from 
mention  of  personal  experience  on  this  subject;  let  nle 
never  condemn  other  ministers  as  cold ;  let  me  work  where 
my  work  will  not  be  known,  among  the  poor,  ignorant,  &c. 


212  EARLY    MINISTRY. 

Let  me  lead  the  serious  from  dependence  on  me,  from  high 
thoughts  of  my  society,  to  Christ.  Let  me  labour  most 
where  I  shall  experience  least  approbation,  and  attend 
chiefly  to  the  insensible  and  sluggish.  Let  me  do  much 
in  secret,  pray,  struggle,  and  purify  myself  for  my  people ; 
let  none  know." 

"  I  am  sensible  of  a  want  of  tenderness  in  my  preach- 
ing. I  want  to  preach  striking,  rather  than  melting  ser- 
mons. Let  me  seek  that  my  heart  be  soft." 

"  God  alone  can  soften  my  people ;  let  me  labour,  there- 
fore, chiefly  in  prayer.  There  is  great  disregard  to  prayer 
among  us.  In  public  worship,  preaching  is  exalted  above 
prayer.  Let  me  strive  to  make  this  part  of  the  service 
more  interesting." 

"  Let  me  separate  a  portion  of  time  for  considering  the 
nature  and  importance  of  my  office,  and  for  exciting  a  holy, 
devout  zeal,  a  fervent,  sincere  desire  for  the  holiness  and 
happiness  of  my  people." 

"  Let  my  visits  be  ministerial,  serious ;  let  me  speak 
plainly  on  religion,  attend  to  the  character  of  individuals, 
observe  their  wants.  What  a  waste  of  time  to  make  other 
visits !  If  I  should  see  a  man  of  business  give  up  two 
hours  a  day  to  making  mere  calls,  I  should  think  him  an 
idler.  How  am  I  better?  Whence  my  timidity  on  the 
subject  of  religion?  I  do  not  carry  conversation  far 
enough  to  be  serious,  earnest,  and  hence  seize  no  end  with 
sufficient  force." 

"  Let  me  give  courses  of  lectures  upon  various  subjects 
adapted  to  different  ages  and  conditions ;  a  course  to  pa- 
rents and  heads  of  families ;  to  the  church ;  on  church  his- 
tory, with  applications  of  prophecy ;  on  the  evidences,  for 
the  young ;  weekly  exhortations  to  children ;  a  course  on 
the  duties  of  the  young ;  on  Jewish  history  and  antiquities ; 
on  the  testimony  of  nature  to  God ;  a  course  of  expositions ; 
a  series  on  the  parables ;  Ac." 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    SOCIETY.  213 

"  My  preaching  does  not  seem  to  be  followed  with  a 
devout,  grateful,  submissive,  holy  spirit  in  my  church.  I 
do  not  witness  fervour  and  happiness  from  the  prospect 
and  hope  of  heaven.  Their  religious  conversation  limited 
to  a  few  topics,  heartless,  cold,  uninteresting !  Whence  is 
this  ?  I  feel  increasing  doubts  about  my  success.  How- 
ever, we  are  commanded  not  to  faint.  I  say  to  myself, 
One  soul  saved ;  and  I  feel  that  such  an  object  deserves  all 
exertion." 

"  The  children  are  members  of  the  church  of  Christ ; 
earnest,  affectionate  attention  is  due  to  them.  I  must  cha- 
techize  them,  pray  with  them,  teach  them  to  pray;  suggest 
subjects  which  they  can  illustrate ;  give  them  texts  to  re- 
member ;  instruct  them  in  the  duties  peculiar  to  their  age, 
and  in  the  doctrines  suited  to  them." 

These  resolves  were  carried  into  deeds ;  and  he  was 
at  this  period  an  indefatigable  pastor.  He  visited  con- 
stantly, had  periodical  prayer-meetings,  and  meetings 
for  conversation  and  religious  instruction — varying 
them  as  seemed  best  fitted  to  keep  interest  alive — and, 
indeed,  practised  most  of  the  modes,  which,  though 
rare  then,  have  now  become  common,  for  quickening 
religious  sensibility  and  producing  Christian  union. 
To  the  sick  he  was  a  faithful  friend,  and  entered  into 
their  anxieties  and  hopes  with  a  touching  devoutness, 
that  lifted  up  their  spirits  as  on  angel  wings  in  prayer. 
Into  the  chamber  of  death  he  came  with  the  auroral 
light  of  the  resurrection  upon  his  brow.  And  to  the 
mourner  he  showed  the  manna  of  consolation  for  ever 
dropping  on  the  desert.  Yet  sometimes  his  quick 
sensibility  subdued  him.  When  one  of  his  oldest  and 
most  dear  parishioners,  Mr.  Thomas  Davis,  was  dying, 
he  left  the  weeping  group  around  the  bedside,  and 


214  EARLY   MINISTRY. 

coming  to  the  church  amidst  the  then  small  band  of 
his  parishioners,  so  intimate  with  each  other  that  they 
seemed  like  one  family,  he  endeavoured  to  commend 
the  departing  soul  to  the  Heavenly  Father.  But  his 
voice  died  in  the  utterance ;  he  sank  his  head  on  the 
desk,  and  burst  into  tears.  A  sob  ran  through  the 
congregation,  and  then  there  was  stillness.  On  one 
other  occasion,  when  visiting  a  family  lately  bereaved, 
he  sat  down  with  the  circle  of  mourners,  and  after  re- 
maining for  a  long  time  in  silence,  as  if  overcome  with 
the  fulness  of  his  feelings,  he  uttered  a  groan,  rose, 
and  left  the  room.  But  these  were  exceptions.  He 
usually  had  perfect  self-control,  and  wore  an  air  of 
serene  cheerfulness,  that  spread  a  contagious  calmness 
over  troubled  hearts. 

In  the  children  of  the  society  he  felt  the  deepest  in- 
terest. He  liked  to  gather  them  after  service  around 
the  pulpit;  when,  coming  down,  he  would  converse 
with  them,  and  give  them  familiar  lessons.  This  was 
before  the  custom  of  Sunday-schools  was  introduced. 
Later  in  his  ministry,  he  and  his  friend  Thacher  pre- 
pared their  well-known  catechism.  But  at  first  he 
confined  himself  chiefly  to  oral  instruction.  He  is  re- 
membered as  having  been  very  successful  in  making 
these  addresses  simple  and  attractive,  clothing  beauti- 
ful thoughts  in  intelligible  language,  and  addressing 
them  to  his  young  friends  with  a  benignant  smile,  that 
won  their  confidence  and  opened  their  hearts.  He 
once  pleasantly  remarked,  that  the  most  satisfactory 
compliment  he  had  ever  received  was  from  a  little  girl, 
who  told  her  mother, — "  I  understood  every  word  he 
said."  His  respect  for  children  was,  indeed,  singularly 
strong;  and  respect  is  the  Only  word  that  can  fitly 


J.    S.    BUCKMINSTER.  215 

express  the  trust  he  felt  and  manifested  in  their  purity. 
He  had,  from  the  first,  a  profound  love  for  their  native 
honour,  their  quick  moral  intuitions,  their  truth  and 
innocence.  And  once,  when  looking  at  the  corpse 
of  a  beautiful  child,  he  said, — "  I  consider  those  so 
early  taken,  as  mysteriously  privileged." 

While  thus  devoted  to  his  own  congregation,  and 
made  every  year  more  and  more  an  object  of  interest 
to  the  community  at  large  by  the  good  influences 
which  were  seen  to  flow  from  his  pulpit,  Mr.  Chan- 
ning  became  widely  known  also  by  the  useful  custom 
of  exchanges,  so  universal  in  New  England.  In 
making  these  he  limited  himself  to  no  denomination, 
but  freely  held  intercourse  with  all  who  were  seeking 
divine  light  and  life.  So  indiscriminate,  indeed,  was 
he  in  this  respect,  that  it  was  found  difficult  for  many 
years  to  assign  him  a  place  in  any  of  the  sects,  which 
the  increasing  temper  of  exclusiveness  was  gradually 
forming.  Alternately  he  was  claimed  and  disowned  by 
all,  being  himself,  as  we  shall  hereafter  see,  chiefly 
anxious  to  shun  controversy  and  to  keep  the  trans- 
parent heaven  of  religion  unobscured  by  the  clouds  of 
theological  disputes.  Still,  it  was  chiefly  in  Boston, 
and  among  the  liberal  divines  of  that  capital,  that  his 
exchanges  were  necessarily  made;  and  in  their  so- 
cieties he  was  at  all  times  a  favourite  preacher,  though 
not  a  few  complained  of  his  gloom,  and  very  many 
preferred  the  sententious  wisdom,  quaintness,  saga- 
city, and  rich  variety  of  Kirkland,  and  the  chaste 
earnestness,  the  scholarly  fulness  of  allusion,  the  ele- 
gance of  style,  and  eloquent  oratory  of  Buckminster. 
Such  hearers  often  carried  doubtless  to  the  religious 
assembly  their  delightful  associations  with  the  superior 


216  EARLY   MINISTRY. 

conversational  gifts  of  those  gentlemen,  who  were  both 
distinguished  for  wit,  pleasantry,  anecdote,  and  that 
easy  play  of  fancy  which  illuminates  with  transient 
charm  the  topic  of  the  hour,  and  whose  manners  con- 
trasted favourably  with  Mr.  Channing's  absorbed  air, 
his  almost  judicial  moral  severity,  and  his  evident  dis- 
taste for  the  current  trifles  which  polish  the  surface  of 
life. 

To  each  of  these  distinguished  men  he  was  bound 
by  ties  of  strong  friendship,  and  he  felt  for  their  talents 
and  acquirements  a  respect  which  they  cordially  reci- 
procated. Under  date  of  November,  1806,  we  find 
Mr.  Buckminster  thus  writing  to  him  from  Paris, 
whither  he  had  been  driven  to  recruit  by  the  malady 
which  so  prematurely  eclipsed  his  bright  genius. 

"  Before  this  reaches  you,  you  will  be  restored,  I  trust, 
to  your  people ;  for  truly  I  am  veiy  anxious  for  the  re- 
ligious situation  of  Boston,  deprived,  as  it  now  is  in  three 
societies,  of  regular  pastors.  I  am  sometimes  ashamed  of 
myself,  when  I  think  that  I  am  here  in  Paris  in  perfect 
idleness,  while  you  are  sinking  under  the  labours  of  your 
ministry.  But  God  grant  that  we  may  be  able  to  con- 
gratulate each  other  next  summer,  upon  meeting,  as  I 
hope  we  shall,  in  health,  and  taught  by  our  sufferings  to 
cherish  more  carefully  than  ever  this  inestimable  gift  of 
our  Maker,  and  not  to  draw  upon  it  too  fast,  so  that  we 
may  use  it  longer  and  more  sacredly  in  the  service  of  our 
people  and  for  the  interests  of  truth.  Farewell,  my  dear 
friend !  I  pray  that  I  may  soon  hear  of  your  perfect  re- 
covery. Remember  my  dear  people  as  often  as  you  can. 
"  Your  friend  and  brother, 

"J.  S.  B." 

For  Mr.  Samuel  C.  Thacher,  too, — who  studied  di- 


SAMUEL    C.   THACHER.  217 

vinity  under  his  care,  and  who  hecame  the  heloved 
minister  of  the  New  South  church,  when  Dr.  Kirkland 
was  called  to  the  station  that,  after  1810,  he  filled  with 
so  much  honour  to  himself  and  to  the  institution,  of 
the  presidency  of  Harvard  University, — he  cherished 
the  warmest  esteem,  to  which  Mr.  Thacher  responded 
hy  most  reverent  love. 

"  The  many  admirable  principles  I  have  heard  from, 
you,"  writes  his  young  friend,  "  I  shall  endeavour  always 
to  recollect,  and  it  shall  be  my  prayer  to  the  Giver  of  all 
good,  that  I  may  not  be  unworthy  the  regard  of  tbe  virtuous 
and  wise.  Remember  me  with  much  love  to  your  brother, 
and  believe  me,  my  dear  Sir,  with  all  possible  gratitude 
and  affection,  your  friend. 

"  S.  C.  T." 

On  the  occasion  of  this  young  hrother's  settlement 
— whose  opening  talents  and  virtues  Mr.  Channing 
watched  with  the  most  tender  interest,  hy  whose  ex- 
ample he  felt  himself  animated,  and  to  whom  he  was 
constantly  more  and  more  closely  hound  by  harmony 
in  views  and  spiritual  sympathy — he  entered  the  fol- 
lowing reflections  in  his  journal : — 

"  1811,  May  16.  This  week  is  peculiarly  eventful  and 
interesting.  Yesterday  I  assisted  at  the  ordination  of  my 
friend  S.  C.  Thacher.  I  presented  him  the  right  hand  of 
fellowship.  This  event  should  recall  to  me  the  day  when 
I  devoted  myself  to  the  Christian  ministry.  Have  I  been 
a  faithful,  diligent  minister,  inquiring  for  every  means  of 
doing  good  to  my  people,  and  devoted  most  sincerely  to 
their  improvement?  Let  me  be  quickened  by  this  event, 
which  has  connected  with  me  a  young  man  whom  I  esteem 
and  love.  Let  me  confer  with  him  on  the  means  of 
benefiting  our  societies.  Let  me  save  him,  if  possible, 


218  EARLY    MINISTRY. 

from  my  errors.  Let  me  avoid  every  feeling  of  rivalship. 
Merciful  God,  render  him  a  better  man  and  Christian  than 
myself.  Have  I  made  sufficient  sacrifices  to  the  young 
men  who  have  studied  with  me  ?  Have  I  paid  attentions, 
instead  of  expecting  them?  Let  me  endeavour  to  excite 
my  young  brother  to  great  fervour  and  activity,  and  let  me 
catch  the  same  warmth  from  him.  I  fear,  I  feel,  that  I 
and  my  brethren  are  not  sufficiently  engaged,  and  not 
desirous  enough  to  see  fruits  from  our  labours.  I  am  not 
ready  to  live  a  suffering  life  for  Jesus  Christ.  My  Saviour! 
may  I  think  of  thy  cross,  of  what  thou  hast  endured  for 
human  happiness,  and  may  I  count  it  my  highest  honour  to 
he  a  partaker  of  thy  sufferings." 

And  again  he  thus  writes  of  him  to  a  friend : — 

"  Heaven  can  hardly  bestow  on  me  a  greater  blessing 
than  tLe  friendship  of  Thacher.  The  purity  of  his  character 
and  life,  and  his  devotion  to  his  profession,  render  him 
peculiarly  important  to  us  at  this  time." 

Thus  cordial,  honourable,  mutually  beneficial,  and 
every  way  manly,  were  the  relations  between  these 
friends,  and  a  large  circle  of  their  brethren.  But  the 
days  of  one  of  the  noblest  of  them  were  numbered. 
On  the  9th  of  June,  1812,  the  sad  tidings  of  the  death 
of  Buckminster  threw  the  whole  community  into  grief. 
How  deeply  Mr.  Channing  mourned  with  others  the 
destruction  of  the  hopes  which  clustered  round  this 
gifted  and  accomplished  man  appears  from  many  of  his 
papers  of  that  period.  He  was  himself  absent  at  the 
time  from  home ;  but  when  he  came  back,  he  preached 
by  request  a  funeral  sermon  before  the  Brattle  Street 
Society,  and  to  his  own  people  spoke  as  follows: — 

"  On  returning  to  this  place,  I  am  not  permitted  to  see 


BUCKMINSTER'S  PAPERS.  219 

and  embrace  a  Christian  brother,  a  fellow-labourer  in  the 
gospel,  whom  1  left  in  the  midst  of  usefulness, — one  of  the 
brightest  ornaments  of  his  profession,  and  of  this  country, — 
whose  vigour  of  mind,  whose  eloquence,  whose  piety,  whose 
sincere  devotion  to  the  interests  of  Christianity,  I  have 
witnessed  with  increasing  pleasure  and  increasing  hope. 
But  God,  who  imparted  to  this  highly  favoured  servant 
such  unusual  gifts,  who  kindled  this  superior  intellect,  has 
suddenly  removed  him  from  his  wide  sphere  of  honour  and 
usefulness.  That  you  followed  to  the  tomb  this  righteous 
man  with  serious  thought  and  sorrowful  reflection  I  cannot 
doubt.  My  own  heart  sunk  within  me,  when  I  heard  the 
painful  tidings  of  his  death.  I  felt  for  the  loss  I  had  ex- 
perienced as  an  individual ;  but  this  sorrow  was  faint,  com- 
pared with  my  painful  sense  of  the  heavy  loss  which  our 
churches  had  experienced." 

And  in  a  letter  he  thus  expresses  himself: — 
"  Buckminster's  death  gives  me  many  painful  and  solici- 
tous feelings  in  relation  to  the  interests  of  religion  in  this 
place.  People  here,  as  you  well  know,  are  attached  to 
religious  institutions  not  so  much  by  a  sense  of  the  value  of 
religion  as  by  their  love  to  their  minister ;  and  I  fear  that 
their  zeal  will  grow  cold,  when  their  ministers  are  removed. 
I  wish  that  there  were  more  attachment  to  the  truth,  and 
less  to  the  man  who  delivers  it.  The  loss  of  Mr.  Buck- 
minster  appears  to  me  irreparable.  I  know  no  man  who 
unites  so  many  gifts  from  nature,  so  many  acquisitions  from 
study,  and  such  power  of  rendering  religion  interesting  to 
all  classes  of  society,  especially  to  the  improved,  the 
polished,  the  fashionable." 

As  a  last  act  of  honour  to  this  already  celebrated 
preacher,  he,  with  Mr.  S.  C.  Thacher,  Mr.  Buckmin- 
ster's more  particular  friend,  was  requested  to  select 
and  prepare  a  portion  of  his  sermons  for  the  press. 

VOL.  i.  L 


220  EARLY   MINISTRY. 

"Mr.  Buckminster's  papers,"  writes  Mr.  George  Ticknor, 
"  came  into  my  hands  after  his  death,  so  that  I  had  a  good 
deal  to  do  with  this  publication, — a  circumstance  which  I 
mention  as  accounting  for  my  knowledge  of  the  facts  in 
relation  to  it.  Mr.  Channing  undertook  it,  I  think,  with 
interest  and  pleasure,  and  gave  a  good  deal  of  time  to  it ; 
though  of  course  the  labour  and  responsibility  came  chiefly 
on  Mr.  Thacher.  The  three  sermons  on  Faith,  and  the 
sermon  on  Philemon,  attracted,  I  believe,  more  of  his  at- 
tention than  any  others.  In  the  last  an  omission  was 
made  at  his  suggestion ;  but  it  may  be  worth  notice,  in  re- 
ference to  the  opinions  he  afterwards  entertained  on  the 
subject,  that  the  strong  phrases  in  the  discourse  that  touch 
slavery  did  not  excite  his  attention.  At  least,  I  am  satisfied 
that  he  made  no  remarks  about  them ;  and  I  remember  the 
way  in  which  he  went  over  the  whole  of  the  sermon.  What 
most  struck  me,  throughout  his  examination  of  the  manu- 
scripts, was  his  interest  in  Mr.  Buckminster's  reputation, 
and  his  care  that  justice  should  be  done  to  it." 

The  rule  by  which  he  was  governed  in  this  work  was 
thus  once  communicated  by  himself : — 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  suggest  a  counsel  which  I  give 
to  those  who  are  publishing  posthumous  works  ?  It  is,  to 
beware  of  publishing  too  much.  The  best  of  a  man's  writ- 
ings should  be  selected  with  somewhat  fastidious  criticism 
for  the  press ;  and  care  should  be  taken,  lest  the  best  be 
lost  and  fail  of  their  effect  by  being  surrounded  with  much 
that  wants  interest  and  will  not  be  read.  I  proceeded  on 
this  principle  in  selecting  Mr.  Buckminster's  sermons,  and 
I  think  their  great  success  is  in  part  owing  to  it." 

But  besides  these  friends,  to  whom  he  was  united  by 
the  relations  of  the  pastoral  office,  and  the  cares  and 
responsibilities,  studies  and  hopes,  incident  to  the  minis- 


LETTERS    TO    FRIENDS.  221 

terial  profession,  Mr.  Charming  had  others  with  whom 
he  held  intercourse  by  letter;  and  some  passages,  taken 
from  his  correspondence  at  this  period,  may  he  of  in- 
terest as  yet  further  illustrating  his  character.  They 
will  he  suitably  prefaced  by  one  in  which  he  pleasantly 
alludes  to  the  stifihess  of  mental  and  moral  habits  con- 
tracted by  too  monotonous  an  absorption  in  his  own 
pursuits. 

"  1812.  The  great  objection  I  have  to  writing  letters  is, 
that  I  can  hardly  do  so  without  beginning  to  preach.  I  have 
composed  sermons  till  I  can  with  difficulty  write  any  thing 
else.  I  exhort  when  I  should  smile.  '  Not  that  I  think  a 
letter  should  be  written  without  a  desire  to  do  good,  but 
instruction  should  be  delivered  with  somewhat  less  formality 
than  from  the  pulpit.  I  will  try,  however,  to  lay  aside  my 
grave  countenance  sometimes." 

"  1805.  Your  books  seem  to  give  you  an  independence 
on  the  world  which  riches  never  bestowed.  I  esteem  it 
one  of  the  greatest  blessings  of  my  life,  that  I  have  been 
taught  to  read,  and  that  I  am  permitted  to  converse  in 
books  with  some  of  the  best  and  greatest  of  my  fellow- 
beings  who  have  ever  existed.  If  I  should  be  spared  to 
your  age,  and  be  permitted  to  rest  a  little  while  before  I  go 
down  to  the  grave,  I  think  this  would  form  my  habitual 
source  of  comfort  and  pleasure.  With  a  book  in  my  hand, 
I  should  meet  the  evils  of  life,  and  forget  its  anxious  cares. 
I  think  we  are  not  sufficiently  grateful  for  the  invention  of 
printing.  I  know  not  that  I  ever  mentioned  it  in  my 
prayers,  but  it  has  done  me  more  good  than  food  and 
raiment.  I  depend  on  my  book  as  on  my  daily  bread." 

"  1807.  I  have  very  little  to  say  about  myself.  My 
health  and  spirits  are  tolerably  good.  Were  I  allowed  to 
choose,  I  would  ask  for  ability  to  apply  more  to  my  studies, 

L  2 


222  EARLY   MINISTRY. 

but  I  believe  that  all  things  are  ordered  aright.  I  know 
already  more  than  I  practise  myself,  and  more  than  I  com- 
municate to  others.  Why,  then,  should  I  be  so  anxious  to 
add  to  my  stock  of  knowledge  ?  I  have  a  strong  propensity 
to  lead  the  life  of  a  recluse  and  a  bookworm ;  and  perhaps, 
if  I  were  able  to  study  all  the  time,  I  should  neglect  the 
active  duties  of  my  profession.  At  present,  I  am  driven 
from  my  study  every  day  by  the  unpleasant  sensations 
which  long  application  produces.  With  this  exception,  I 
am  quite  well.  My  life  is  very  tranquil.  I  will  not  mingle 
with  the  contentions  of  the  world.  Angry  politicians  and 
theologians  are  raging  around  me,  but  I  try  not  to  hear ; 
and  if  this  is  impossible,  I  avail  myself  of  my  defect  of 
memory,  and  forget  the  clamour.  Certainly  life  is  too  short, 
its  duties  too  numerous  and  weighty,  to  leave  us  much  time 
to  waste  in  altercation." 

"  1808.  This  is  my  birthday.  I  have  been  looking 
back  on  the  blessings  which  have  filled  up  my  existence. 
The  last  year,  I  find,  has  been  crowned  with  mercies ;  and 
in  acknowledging  the  unmerited  goodness  of  God,  I  cannot 
but  thank  him  that  he  has  put  it  into  the  heart  of  so  kind  a 
friend  to  take  such  an  interest  in  my  welfare,  and  to  ex- 
press toward  me  so  much  tenderness  and  affection.  All 
my  life  long,  God  has  been  raising  up  to  me  benefactors. 
I  never  experienced  the  want  of  a  friendly  hand  to  support 
me.  O  that  with  his  blessings  he  would  give  me  a  heart 
to  be  grateful  for  them !  Give  me  your  prayers,  that  the 
next  year  of  my  life  may  be  more  useful  than  the  last,  that 
every  day  may  bring  me  nearer  to  heaven,  that  I  may  feel 
more  of  the  power  of  religion,  that  God  would  condescend 
to  use  even  me  as  an  instrument  in  advancing  his  cause  in 
the  world." 

"  1809.     I  feel  more  and  more  that  I  am  doing  little 
good,  but  I  blame  myself  as  much  as  others.     Since  you 


LETTERS    TO    FRIENDS.  223 

have  been  absent,  I  have  felt  more  debilitated  than  usual. 
I  have  not  been  capable  of  much  mental  exertion.  How 
much  do  I  need  these  rebukes  to  keep  me  humble !  You 
know  the  sin  which  most  easily  besets  me.  I  have  reason 
to  be  grateful  for  the  various  methods  in  which  God  is 
teaching  me  my  dependence  and  imbecility." 

"1812.  New  Year's  day.  The  past  year  has  been  to  us 
both  peculiarly  interesting.  It  has  made  some  important 
changes  in  our  domestic  circles,  and  it  has  left,  I  hope, 
some  salutary  impressions  on  ourselves  and  our  friends.  I 
look  back  on  it  with  much  humiliation.  I  fear  that  my 
sufferings  have  not  refined  me  as  they  ought.  I  am  sure 
that  my  blessings  have  not  left  that  tender  sense  of  the 

Divine  goodness  which  I  wish  ever  to  maintain 

My  increasing  duties  require  increasing  activity,  and  some- 
times they  suggest  many  painful  fears  and  forebodings. 
Pray  for  me,  that  I  may  be  faithful  and  useful 

"  I  recollect  on  this  day  the  kindness  and  affection  which 
you  have  expressed  toward  me  with  so  much  uniformity  and 
tenderness,  since  I  first  knew  you.  Your  friendship  I  have 
valued  as  one  of  the  great  blessings  of  my  life,  and  I  hope 
it  will  not  forsake  me  in  any  prosperous  or  adverse  changes 
which  may  await  me 

"  I  know  that  I  have  many  friends, — perhaps  few  are 
more  favoured  than  I.  But  still  I  cannot  spare  you.  How 
much  of  the  happiness,  and  I  may  add  of  the  usefulness, 
of  my  life  do  I  owe  to  your  tender,  unremitting  kindness ! 
How  often  have  I  been  kept  from  faulting  by  your  cheering 
voice !  Do  not  say  that  I  am  inclined  to  exaggerate  your 
offices  of  friendship.  I  cannot  express  what  I  feel.  I 
have  often  felt  that  your  partiality  to  me  was  unmerited, 
but  I  am  not  just  enough  to  wish  it  diminished.  It  has 
become  one  of  my  highest  earthly  blessings.  It  is  one  of 
the  few  blessings  to  which  I  look  forward  with  confidence. 


224  EARLY   MINISTRY. 

I  feel  that  many  other  friends  may  fail,  but  I  feel  a  strange 
assurance  that  no  changes  can  sever  us  from  each  other.  Is 
it  not  religion,  that  indissoluble  bond,  which  unites  us  ?  " 

"  1808.  You  will  not  forget,  no,  not  for  a  moment,  that 
it  is  God,  the  best  of  beings,  the  kindest  of  fathers,  who 
gave  you  the  parent  you  have  lost,  and  to  whom  you  are 
indebted  for  all  the  kind  support,  the  tender  care,  the  faith- 
ful admonitions  which  you  have  received  from  your  beloved 
and  revered  friend, — that  it  is  he  who  wounds  and  corrects 
you.  In  the  perfection  of  his  character,  in  the  wisdom, 
rectitude,  and  mercy  of  his  providence,  in  the  truths  and 
promises  of  his  gospel,  in  his  compassion  for  the  fatherless, 
you  will  find,  I  trust,  consolation  and  support.  Do  not  dis- 
trust him,  who  is  love, — who  is  a  father  when  he  rebukes, 
and  who  rebukes  because  he  is  a  father,  because  he  is  inte- 
rested in  our  welfare,  because  he  sees  that  we  have  sins 
which  need  correction,  because  he  designs  to  purify  us  for 
his  presence  in  heaven.  I  know  the  strength  of  your  feel- 
ings. I  do  not  expect  that  at  the  first  moment  of  affliction 
you  will  be  able  to  fix  a  steady  unwavering  eye  on  the 
precious  truths  of  our  religion.  God,  who  knows  that  we 
are  dust,  permits  us  to  mourn,  and  I  trust  compassionates 
rather  than  condemns  the  mourner  who  sinks  under  the 
first  stroke  of  unexpected  calamity ; — but  you  will  not,  I 
hope,  long  forget  the  presence  and  the  righteous  will  of 
God.  You  will  open  your  mind  to  the  supporting  views 
which  Christianity  affords  of  the  purposes  of  affliction. 
With  sorrrow  you  will  unite  patience,  confidence,  humility, 
and  hope." 

"  1809.  Unless  I  am  deceived,  you  have  much  to  learn, 
and  perhaps  much  to  suffer,  before  you  will  deserve  to  be 
called  happy.  Happiness  is  the  uniform  serenity  of  a  well- 
governed  mind,  of  disciplined  affections,  of  a  heart  steadily 


LETTERS    TO    FRIENDS.  225 

devoted  to  objects  which  reason  and  religion  recommend. 
According  to  my  tame  imagination,  Happiness  is  a  very 
demure  lady,— almost  as  prim  as  the  wives  of  the  Pilgrims 
of  New  England.  She  smiles,  indeed,  most  benignantly, 
but  very  seldom  laughs ;  she  may  sigh,  but  seldom  sobs ; 
the  tear  may  start  into  her  eye,  the  tear  of  gratitude  and 
of  sympathy,  but  it  seldom  streams  down  the  cheek.  Her 
step  is  sometimes  quickened,  but  she  does  not  waste  her 
spirits  and  strength  in  violent  and  unnatural  efforts.  She 
cultivates  judgment  more  than  fancy.  She  employs  imagi- 
nation, not  to  dress  up  airy  fictions,  not  to  throw  a  false, 
short-lived  lustre  over  the  surrounding  scenery,  but  to  array 
in  splendour  distant  objects  which  reason  assures  her  are 
most  glorious  and  excellent,  but  which,  from  their  distance, 
are  apt  to  fade  away  before  the  eye,  and  to  IOSP  their  power 
over  the  heart.  Now  I  confess  that  my  ideas  of  happiness 

and  those  of  my  friend  do  not  perfectly  coincide. 

Time  and  affliction,  however,  will  bring  them  nearer  to 
each  other.  Perhaps  reflection  may  render  affliction  less 
necessary." 

"1811.  In  the  beginning  of  this  letter,  I  have  alluded 
to  an  affliction  which  I  have  been  called  to  sustain.  It  has 
pleased  God  this  week  to  remove  from  us  a  friend  in  whom 
I  have  long  felt  a  strong  and  increasing  interest.  You 
undoubtedly  heard  of  her  frequently,  whilst  you  lived  in 
this  town ;  but  her  character,  her  worth,  you  probably  never 
knew.  It  has  been  my  privilege  and  happiness,  for  some 
time,  to  enjoy  an  intimacy  with  this  singular  woman,  this 
highly  favoured  child  of  God.  She  has  been  a  great  suf- 
ferer for  several  years,  but  she  has  suffered  so  meekly  and 
patiently,  her  character  has  been  so  refined  and  elevated  by 
suffering,  she  embraced  all  around  her  with  such  a  strong 
and  tender  affection  amidst  pains  which  would  have  ren- 
dered others  insensible  to  all  but  themselves,  she  disco- 


226  EARLY    MINISTRY. 

vered  such  unabated  energy  of  mind  at  the  moment  that 
her  emaciated  frame  seemed  just  ready  to  resign  its  breath, 
that  I  have  contemplated  her  with  a  delight  and  admira- 
tion which  very  few  of  our  race  have  inspired.  I  have 
understood  that  in  early  life  she  was  the  victim  of  sensi- 
bility; and  indeed  it  was  easy  to  see  that  her  feelings 
tended  to  excess.  But  religion,  that  refining  and  sub- 
duing principle,  exerted  its  kindest  influence  on  her  heart. 
She  was  called  to  a  struggle  peculiarly  arduous,  but  she 
was  conqueror.  I  cannot  mourn  for  her  departure ;  yet  it 
is  a  thought  which  almost  saddens  me,  that  I  am  no  more 
to  hear  her  animated  voice,  no  more  to  commune  with  that 
powerful  mind,  that  warm  and  pure  heart,  on  this  side  the 
grave.  But  to  her  pious  and  virtuous  friends  she  is  not 
lost;  there  is  society  in  heaven." 

"1810.  I  am  not  insensible  to  commendation.  I  will 
go  farther.  There  is  a  commendation  which  affords  me  an 
exquisite  satisfaction, — I  mean  a  commendation  which  flows 
from  an  unaffected  love  of  goodness,  and  from  a  desire  to 
confirm  it.  Such  commendation  confers  more  honour  on 
those  who  give  than  on  him  who  receives  it,  and  shows  him 
that  he  has  a  place,  not  in  the  admiration  of  a  superficial 
mind,  but  in  the  affections  of  a  good,  pure  heart.  Of  this 
praise  I  can  almost  adopt  the  language  of  Henry  the 
Fifth,— 

'  If  it  be  a  sin  to  covet  honour, 
I  am  the  most  offending  soul  alive.' 

But  to  be  '  daubed  with  undiscerning  praise,'  to  have  my 
frailties  forced  on  my  mind  by  being  told  that  I  have  none, 
to  receive  a  tribute  which  my  heart  disclaims,  and  which 
fills  me  with  apprehension  lest  I  have  been  a  hypocrite, 
and  have  practised  concealment  more  effectually  than  most 
of  my  fellow-beings, — this  is  indeed  painful  and  humili- 
ating. You  will  not  think  that  I  mean  to  apply  all  this 
to  you ;  but  in  your  letter  you  have  '  o'erstepped  the 


LETTERS    TO    FRIENDS.  227 

bounds  '  of  that  discretion  which  I  wish  you  to  observe. 
You  throw  your  colours  on  your  friends  too  profusely.  Hu- 
manity is  but  another  word  for  imperfection.  It  is  a  dis- 
tempered vision  which  represents  it  as  faultless.  I  cannot 
tell  you,  my  dear  friend,  how  much  more  I  should  have 
been  gratified,  if  you  had  frankly  disclosed  to  me  the  ob- 
servations you  must  have  made  on  my  character,  and  had 
set  before  me  the  weaknesses,  defects,  disproportions,  ble- 
mishes, which  must  have  forced  themselves  on  so  discern- 
ing an  eye." 

"1812.  I  thank  them  for  their  good  opinion  ;  but  to  you 
I  will  say,  that  I  feel  an  almost  insuperable  reluctance  to 
visit,  and  much  more  to  preach,  where  people  have  taken 
it  into  their  heads  that  they  are  to  see  or  hear  any  thing 
uncommon.  In  my  own  breast  I  carry  a  conviction  which 
contradicts  all  such  opinions,  and  renders  applause  painful 
and  mortifying.  The  tender  affection  which  you  express 
is  indeed  delightful,  though  I  feel  it  is  not  altogether  de- 
served ;  but  fame,  general  notice,  is  not  my  right,  and  I 
pray  God  that  it  may  never  be  my  wish  or  end." 

"1810.  I  would  not  have  you  think  that  any  human 
friendship  is  of  itself  sufficient  to  raise  you  to  the  excel- 
lence I  have  fancied.  There  is  another  source  to  which 
you  must  repair.  It  is  a  most  consoling  doctrine  of  our 
religion,  that  the  Father  of  Spirits  delights  to  perfect  the 
works  which  he  has  made,  that  he  has  sent  his  Son  to  re- 
new his  own  image  in  the  human  heart,  that  he  inspires 
the  love  of  virtue,  that  he  hears  the  aspirations  and  assists 
the  efforts  of  every  soul  which  desires  to  be  emancipated 
from  its  earthly  and  selfish  propensities 

"  I  am  very  willing  that  you  should  dissent  from  the 
opinion  I  have  expressed  of  Hume.  When  I  reviewed 
that  part  of  my  letter,  I  feared  that  I  had  been  declama- 

L  3 


228  EARLY    MINISTRY. 

tory  rather  than  convincing ;  that  I  had  carried  my  prin- 
ciple too  far.  It  is  a  fault  which  I  have  often  observed  in 
niy  character,  that  I  am  prone  to  over-state  an  argument, — 
to  infer  too  much  from  my  premises, — to  exhibit  a  truth 
without  the  necessary  limitations.  I  want  to  make  an  im- 
pression, and  defeat  my  end  by  demanding  a  stronger  con- 
viction or  a  more  unqualified  assent  than  I  have  a  right 
to  expect.  I  need  to  seek  the  excellence  for  which  Bishop 
Butler  is  so  remarkable, — I.  mean  that  of  being  so  cautious 
and  modest  in  his  inferences,  that  his  readers  not  only  con- 
cede the  positions  for  which  he  contends,  but  almost  blame 
him  for  not  demanding  more.  This  habit  conciliates  great 
confidence  for  a  writer;  and  we  are  naturally  impressed 
with  the  strength  of  his  cause,  when  we  see  him  able  to 
support  it  without  straining  a  single  argument,  or  even 
carrying  it  to  its  fair  extent.  Some  people,  rather  than 
lose  a  good  metaphor,  or  a  fine  sentence,  are  often  tempted 
to  assert  what  is  not  altogether  accurate ;  and  they  have 
their  reward.  They  astonish,  but  do  not  convince.  They 
strike,  but  do  not  keep  their  hold  of  the  mind.  May 
you  and  I  love  Truth  better  than  Rhetoric." 

"  1810.  If  I  were  to  differ  from  you  on  the  subject  of 
history,  it  would  be  in  giving  a  stronger  preference  to  bio- 
graphy than  you  seem  to  do.  General  history,  indeed,  dis- 
covers to  us  human  beings  in  a  great  variety  of  circum- 
stances ;  but  it  shows  us  beings  principally  of  one  class  of 
character,  and  it  brings  them  before  us  in  their  maturity, 
after  their  characters  are  formed. 

"  History  transmits  to  us  almost  exclusively  those  men 
who  have  had  sway  over  nations.  It  shows  us  the  ambition 
which  proposes  to  itself  dominion,  in  an  endless  variety  of 
forms, — now  plotting  in  the  cabinet,  now  shedding  torrents 
of  blood  in  the  field  of  battle.  I  will  not  say  that  there 
is  not  much  important  instruction  to  be  derived  from  this 


LETTERS   TO   FRIENDS.  229 

exhibition  of  human  character ;  but  is  it  the  most  import- 
ant to  such  beings  as  you  and  I,  who  would  not  receive  a 
crown  for  a  gift, — who  fill,  from  necessity  and  choice,  the 
humbler  walks  of  life, — whose  objects,  temptations,  hopes 
and  fears  are  so  very  different  from  those  which  history 
unfolds  ?  The  page  of  history  is  so  crowded  with  heroes 
and  statesmen  that  it  cannot  admit  people  like  us,  although 
our  dimensions  are  so  very  small.  It  has  not  a  place  even 
in  the  margin  for  the  minister  and  the  schoolmistress.  It 
is  too  blood-stained  to  be  the  record  of  those  peaceful  vir- 
tues which  as  Christians  we  should  seek  to  infuse  into  our 
hearts. 

"  Again,  general  history  shows  us  only  men  in  their  ma- 
turity, after  they  have  come  forward  on  the  public  stage. 
It  seldom  carries  us  back  and  shows  us  by  what  influences 
the  character  which  we  behold  was  gradually  formed.  It 
presents  the  full-grown  man.  I  want  to  see  him  in  his 
cradle,  and  trace  him  thence  to  his  height  of  glory  or  his 
depth  of  guilt.  I  want  to  see  him  when  he  is  not  acting 
his  part,  in  that  common,  every-day  intercourse  which  re- 
veals the  man  as  he  is.  Now  biography  seems  to  me  to 
give  these  advantages.  It  shows  us  every  form  and  every 
stage  of  character ;  it  shows  us  excellence  which  is  not  the 
less  worthy  of  admiration  because  it  was  not  called  forth 
into  public  life.  It  makes  us  the  friends,  the  domestic; 
companions,  and  the  private  witnesses  of  the  good  man. 

"  Let  me  just  add,  that  young  minds,  unless  carefully 
guarded,  often  receive  injurious  impressions  from  history. 
They  see  the  ambitious  exerting  such  vast  power  and  en- 
joying such  splendid  success,  that  they  are  dazzled  and 
overwhelmed ;  they  form  false  ideas  of  greatness,  become 
reconciled  to  wars,  and  sympathize  so  strongly  with  the 
towering  oppressor,  that  they  feel  no  concern  for  the  na- 
tions he  desolates." 


230  EARLY   MINISTRY. 

"  18]  1.  I  need  not  introduce  the  following  advice,  or 
labour  to  secure  it  a  favourable  reception,  by  assuring  you 
of  the  sincere  affection  from  which  it  flows.  You  know  that 
I  have  felt  no  common  interest  in  your  situation,  and  I 
must  believe  that  you  will  ascribe  the  admonitions  I  am  to 
offer  to  the  desire  of  contributing  to  your  usefulness  and 
happiness.  The  confidence  you  have  reposed  in  me  en- 
courages and  even  binds  me  to  speak  with  frankness.  Some 
of  my  remarks  may  appear  too  minute,  but  your  success 
depends  very  much  on  your  attention  to  little  things. 

"It  is  of  the  first  importance,  that  you  impress  the 
people  amongst  whom  you  are  to  live  with  a  conviction  of 
your  steadiness  and  stability  of  character.  I  feel  no  little 
solicitude  on  this  point.  If  once  you  are  considered 
thoughtless,  volatile,  and  injudicious,  your  prospect  of 
success  is  gone.  Your  talents  will  be  of  little  avail. 
Parents  cannot  be  blamed  for  requiring  a  considerate 
character  in  those  to  whom  they  commit  their  children. 
This  impression  of  steadiness  you  must  make,  not  only  by 
your  unwearied  attention  in  school,  but  by  your  deportment 
and  appearance  at  other  seasons.  You  will  be  cheerful, 
but  not  gay.  In  your  manners  you  cannot  but  be  easy,  but 
you  must  avoid  everything  which  approaches  wildness.  In 
your  dress  you  cannot  but  discover  taste ;  but  it  will  be 
better  to  fall  below,  than  to  rise  above,  the  common  standard 
of  fashion  in  the  place  where  you  live.  Do  not  act  from 
the  impulse  of  the  moment ;  but  deliberate  before  you  de- 
cide. You  know  what  is  meant  by  the  word  judgment.  I 
hope  you  will  possess  it,  and  I  hope  you  will  be  thought  to 
possess  it.  In  conversation  you  will  not  forget  that  you 
are  among  strangers,  and  that  this  situation  requires  a 
caution  and  reserve  to  which  you  have  never  before  been 
called.  You  must  also  remember  that  in  a  small  town  it  is 
the  fashion  to  repeat  what  ought  to  be  forgotten.  Let  not 


LETTERS    TO    FRIENDS.  231 

your  spirits  run  away  with  you.  Be  not  extravagant  in  ex- 
pressing delight  and  admiration.  Do  not  aim  at  shining 
much.  You  will  be  brilliant  enough  without  effort.  Seek 
esteem  and  confidence  rather  than  admiration.  Admirers 
are  not  friends ;  and  for  one  who  admires,  there  are  twenty 
to  envy  and  discover  faults.  Do  not  make  other  people 
subjects  of  conversation.  You  will  see  and  hear  much, 
perhaps,  to  displease  you ;  but,  as  you  are  going  to  instruct 
the  young,  and  not  to  reform  the  old,  you  may  hold  your 
peace  with  a  safe  conscience.  Be  very  cautious  in  forming 
intimacies.  Your  respectability,  as  well  as  your  happiness, 
requires  that  you  should  attach  yourself  to  persons  of  im- 
proved hearts  and  understandings, — of  solid  worth,  of 
acknowledged  excellence.  Indulge  in  company  with  mo- 
deration. Learn  to  be  happy  in  yourself,  and  at  home. 
Partake  sparingly  of  public  amusements,  and  religiously 
deny  yourself  every  pleasure  inconsistent  with  the  active, 
faithful  discharge  of  your  daily  duties.  I  am  very  desirous 
that  you  should  avoid  the  character  of  a  fashionable  woman, 
and  you  will  remember  this  character  is  fixed  on  a  person 
more  easily  in  a  small  than  in  a  large  town.  You  know  the 
great  circumspection  required  of  a  young  lady  who  lives 
alone,  without  parent,  guardian,  or  brother.  Your  occupa- 
tion will  render  exercise  necessary,  perhaps  every  day.  Do 
not  think  me  too  minute,  if  I  advise  you  to  vary  your  walks, 
and  to  walk  in  retired  parts  of  the  town.  Here  end  my 
prudential  rules.  You  will  forgive  me  when  I  tell  you  that 
I  have  written  to  you  just  as  I  should  to  my  sisters.  You 
must  have  learnt  not  to  trust  to  the  candour  of  the  world. 
Give  them,  if  possible,  not  one  ground  for  questioning  your 
steadiness  of  character. 

"  Now  for  your  school.  Endeavour  to  introduce  the  most 
perfect  system  at  the  beginning,  and  be  very  slow  to  admit 
any  change  which  inexperienced  people  may  think  very 
good,  unless  its  utility  be  obvious.  Pay  great  attention  to 


232  EARLY    MINISTRY. 

the  order  of  your  school,  and  to  the  manners  of  the  chil- 
dren ;  and  when  they  leave  you,  see  that  they  retire  with 
silence  and  regularity.  I  need  not  urge  it  upon  you  to 
unite  with  this  strict  discipline  great  mildness  and  perfect 
freedom  from  passion.  I  wish  that  you  would  introduce 
some  religious  exercises.  Let  the  Scriptures  be  daily  read, 
in  a  reverential  manner,  by  yourself  or  by  some  good  reader 
in  the  school.  Be  careful  to  teach  every  branch  thoroughly. 
A  school  is  lost  when  it  gets  the  character  of  being  showy 
and  superficial.  Let  me  conclude  with  urging  you  to  enter 
into  the  spirit  of  your  occupation.  Learn  to  love  it.  Try 
to  carry  into  it  a  little  enthusiasm.  Let  it  not*  be  your 
task,  but  your  delight.  Feel  that  Providence  is  honouring 
you  in  committing  to  you  the  charge  of  immortal  minds. 
Study  the  characters  of  your  pupils,  and  the.  best  modes  of 
exciting  and  improving  them.  You  have  heart  enough ; 
fix  it  on  this  noble  object.  And  now,  my  dear  friend,  be  of 
good  courage.  Bear  up,  with  a  calm,  steady  resolution, 
under  the  trials  of  life.  Lift  your  eyes,  with  gratitude  and 
confidence,  to  your  Father  in  heaven,  and  he  will  never 
forsake  you.  Wherever  you  go,  you  will  be  surrounded 
with  his  presence ;  and  if  you  approve  yourself  his  humble, 
faithful  child,  you  cannot  but  be  happy.  To  his  providence 
I  commend  you." 

Thus  warm  were  Mr.  Channing's  sympathies,  in  the 
home  circle,  in  his  congregation,  towards  his  brethren 
in  the  ministry,  and  to  many  friends.  They  were  not 
limited,  however,  to  these  spheres,  but  widened  to  em- 
brace the  wants  of  all  his  fellow-men  in  the  community 
in  which  he  dwelt.  The  poor  were  especially  objects  of 
his  regard,  many  of  whom  freely  visited  him ;  and  he 
had  always  several  destitute  families  under  his  care. 
His  liberality,  indeed,  was  so  unbounded,  that  his  elder 
brother  once  said, — "Really,  William  should  have  a 


GENEROSITY.  233 

guardian;  he  spends  every  dollar  as  soon  as  he  gets 
it."  And  so  he  actually  did.  With  a  good  salary,  he 
was  yet  always  poor, — so  utter  was  his  dislike  to  accu- 
mulation, and  so  little  anxious  was  he  for  the  morrow  ; 
but,  as  he  seldom  mentioned  his  deeds  of  kindness, 
comparatively  few  of  them  are  particularly  known. 
Many  letters,  however,  which  yet  remain,  prove  how 
varied,  numerous,  judicious,  and  patient  were  his 
labours  to  cheer,  encourage,  and  redeem  the  unfortunate. 
And  when  his  own  means  were  exhausted,  rich  and 
generous  friends  in  his  society  made  him  their  almoner: 
To  one  of  these  he  writes, — "I  shall,  indeed,  consider  it 
a  great  blessing  to  myself,  as  well  as  to  you,  to  be  able 
to  suggest  opportunities  of  usefulness;  and  I  shall  do 
this  more  readily,  if  you  resolve  never  to  oppose  your 
own  judgment  out  of  respect  to  my  feelings."  And 
again  he  says, — "  I  thank  God  that  he  permits  me  to 
communicate  to  you  the  thanks  of  the  poor  and 

afflicted Kejoice  that  through  you  praise  has 

ascended  to  heaven, — joyful  praise  from  the  lips  of  a 
man  just  trembling  over  the  grave.  I  feel  myself  in- 
debted to  you  for  the  benevolence  you  exercise  to 

others May  you  yet  more  earnestly  espouse 

the  interest  of  the  Redeemer,  and  imitate  his  meek  and 
condescending  love."  Thus  was  he  doubly  a  benefactor, 
by  presenting  to  the  wealthy  opportunities  to  bestow  on 
the  needy  the  gifts  which  God  had  intrusted  to  their 
guardianship. 

"  I  never  heard  him  speak  of  giving  pecuniary  aid  to 
any  one/'  says  one  of  his  sisters;  "but  facts  speak  for 
themselves.  He  must  have  had  a  thousand  dollars  to 
lay  out,  of  which  he  spent  scarcely  anything  upon  him- 
self, except  in  case  of  sickness,  or  when  he  had  to  take 


234  EARLY    MINISTRY. 

a  journey.  He  never  had  money  for  any  length  of 
time,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  always  disposed  of 
it  nearly  as  fast  as  he  received  it.  We  must  believe 
that  he  gave  away  nearly  eight  hundred  a  year,  and  I 
have  known  many  times  when  he  had  nothing.  In  all 
his  feelings  he  was  large  and  noble.  I  remember,  on 
one  occasion,  he  had  attended  the  funeral  of  a  gentle- 
man of  fortune,  and  afterwards  had  visited  the  afflicted 
family.  The  widow  wishing  to  express  her  gratitude, 
inclosed  him  fifty  dollars  in  a  note.  It  was  a  sore  trial 
to  him.  He  could  not  bear  to  wound  the  feelings  of 
the  lady  by  a  refusal;  and  yet,  to  accept  it  was  not  to 
be  thought  of.  He  returned  it,  and,  I  am  sure,  in  doing 
so,  found  some  way  not  to  pain  another  by  sparing 
himself.  Think,  for  one  moment,  that  any  one  could 
have  offered  money  to  such  a  being,  as  a  return  for  his 
sympathy;  but  then  it  was  so  kindly  meant  on  her  part, 
that  I  could  not  mention  it  even  now,  if  she  had  not 
long  been  numbered  among  the  dead.  She  only  did 
not  know  him.  He  was  as  wise,  too,  as  he  was 
generous,  and  I  never  saw  any  one  who  more  truly 
understood  the  value  of  money  for  the  benefit  of 
others,  or  who  cared  less  for  it  himself." 

One  slight  anecdote  shows  his  disposition  in  this  re- 
spect. As  he  was  taking  a  journey  alone  in  a  chaise, 
he  was  induced  by  the  appearance  of  poverty  about  a 
dwelling  to  stop  and  inquire  after  the  condition  of  the 
inmates.  He  found  a  very  old  couple,  helpless  and 
wretched;  and  after  conversing  with  them  some  time 
as  to  their  simple  life,  he  bade  them  farewell,  leaving 
in  their  hands  his  purse.  He  had  ridden  some  miles 
before  it  occurred  to  him  that  his  horse  would  suffer, 
though  he  might  not,  from  his  penniless  condition ; 


INTEREST    IN   THE    POOR.  23-") 

when,  finding  himself  in  the  neighbourhood  of  an 
acquaintance,  he  borrowed  the  necessary  sum  to  carry 
him  on  his  way. 

His  journals  are  interesting  here,  also,  as  showing 
'how  comprehensive  at  once  and  minutely  exact  was  his 
charity,  in  devising  benefit  for  the  suffering.  There 
are  long  and  full  lists  of  the  various  classes  of  the  com- 
munity who  needed  care  or  aid, — sketches  of  their 
peculiar  trials,  temptations,  and  difficulties,  —  sug- 
gestions for  public  works,  benevolent  operations,  special 
reforms, — and  hints  of  all  kinds  as  to  the  duties  which 
society  owes  to  its  members.  But  a  few  extracts  will 
speak  for  themselves. 

"  Things  to  be  done  in  town. — Comfortable  houses  to  be 
let  cheap  for  the  poor.  Innocent  and  improving  amuse- 
ments. Interesting  works  to  be  circulated  among  them. 
Associations  among  mechanics  for  mutual  support  if  re- 
duced. Complete  course  of  instruction  for  youth  designed 
for  active  life.  Dr.  Latborp's  plan  of  education.  Justices' 
salaries  to  be  fixed ;  their  fees ;  small  debts ;  petty  suits  ; 
oppression  of  the  poor.  Taverns ;  drinking-parties ;  a  work 
on  ardent  spirits  should  be  written.  Fire-clubs.  Appren- 
tice-boys at  bad  houses  ;  &c." 

"  Poor-house. — Rooms  to  be  better  aired.  There  should 
be  selection  in  assigning  rooms.  Tracts  to  be  circulated 
there.  Let  me  visit  them  once  a  week.  They  want  plain, 
pious,  unambitious,  evangelical  ministry;  they  want  that 
gospel  which  teacbes  contentment  in  every  state.  An  asso- 
ciation of  females  to  furnish  them  employments.  Neatness 
should  be  prescribed.  Great  regularity  in  their  exercises. 
Mutual  respect  required;  decency  of  manners  to  each 
other." 

"  Causes  of  poverty  to  be  traced.     Charity  is  not  enough 


236  EARLY   MINISTRY. 

directed.  Intimate  acquaintance  with  poor  families.  Em- 
ployment found.  Economical  improvements.  Store-houses. 
Provisions  of  wood  in  large  quantities  at  cheap  prices,  and 
so  with  all  necessaries  of  life  ;  to  be  bought  at  cheap  sea- 
sons, and  sold  in  large  quantities.  Rumford  boilers." 

"  A  bake-house  for  the  poor,  established  by  a  fund  for 
their  use ;  an  association  of  the  poor,  contributing  so  much 
a  week  for  a  fund  to  support  them  in  sickness ;  associations 
for  relief  of  the  sick,  old,  debtors,  and  for  the  employment 
of  those  who  are  without  work." 

"  What  can  be  done  to  exalt  the  poor  and  ignorant  from 
a  life  of  sense  to  an  intellectual,  moral,  religious  life  ?  How 
excite  an  interest  in  the  education  of  their  children  ?  Let 
me  learn  to  extemporize,  that  I  may  administer  plain'  in- 
struction. May  not  the  mind  be  quickened  by  interesting 
the  heart  in  religion  ?  The  Divine  character,  peculiarly  as 
displayed  in  Christianity,  is  the  great  means  of  exalting 
human  nature.  The  poor  need  moral  remedies.  Let  the 
poor  be  my  end." 

"  Let  each  rich  family  have  some  poor  under  their  care  ; 
especially  Christian  families.  Mention  the  poor  to  others. 
Connect  the  poor  with  good  families." 

"  There  should  be  an  association  to  receive  prostitutes, 
when  reduced  by  want  and  disease,  to  reform  and  employ 
them.  A  house  necessary,  and  one  walled,  &c.  The  ob- 
ject, seclusion,  support,  and  rendering  them  useful.  A 
strong  aversion  to  licentiousness  should  be  awakened." 

"  Immigrants.  A  society  of  advice.  They  are  subjects 
of  speculation,  exposed  to  unprincipled  men.  They  want 
direction,  friends.  Keep  them  out  of  the  way  of  designing 
people.  They  depend  on  the  \\ants  of  landholders,  &c." 

"  Africans.  To  enable  them  better  to  manage  the  affairs 
of  this  life ;  to  acquire  support,  property ;  to  elevate  their 
desire  of  pleasure  above  sense,  to  social  enjoyments  and 
improvement  of  mind.  I  wish  them  to  be  thinking  per- 


INTEREST   IN   THE   POOR.  237 

sons,  to  act  from  thought.  Their  modes  of  life  would  vary, 
if  instruction  was  early  given.  A  school  may  interest 
them.  Their  present  evils — dirt,  bad  air,  crowded  rooms, 
and  their  poverty — originate  in  thoughtlessness,  intempe- 
rance, &c.  In  learning  they  will  find  new  pleasures,  and 
be  less  tempted  to  irregularity.  We  must  give  them  new 
tastes.  What  powers,  how  much  mind,  how  much  heart, 
what  treasures  are  contained  in  them !  Shall  all  be  lost  ? 
Awaken  a  sense  of  their  true  dignity  and  true  excellence, 
and  so  prevent  vain  attention  to  dress,  &c.  Is  it  not  pos- 
sible to  make  a  party  among  them  in  support  of  religion  ? 
May  there  not  be  a  line  of  distinction  drawn  among  them, 
and  a  sense  of  character  awakened?" 

"  Excite  no  feeling  of  dependence.  Stimulate  to  exertion. 
Relief,  such  as  to  call  out  energy,  and  remove  whatever 
disheartens  and  disables." 

"  How  much  capacity  there  is  in  the  poorer  classes  of 
knowledge  and  affection !  Why  is  it  not  developed  ?  Is 
not  the  social  order  bad  ?  Cannot  all  the  capacities  of  all 
classes  be  called  forth  ?  Cannot  men's  motives  in  pursuing 
wealth  be  purified?  Cannot  a  strong  conviction  be  esta- 
blished, that  Christ's  precepts  in  the  plain  sense  are  the 
only  rule  for  Christians?  Cannot  the  power  of  fashion 
and  opinion,  except  in  so  far  as  they  may  be  sanctioned  by 
Christianity,  be  subverted?" 

"  Employ  religious  schoolmistresses  in  different  parts  of 
the  town.  The  children  of  the  poor  need  special  care." 

In  this  project  he  was  at  this  time  much  interested, 
and  was  instrumental,  in  connection  with  others,  in 
establishing  primary  schools, — being  prompted  by  the 
considerations,  that,  by  such  a  provision, 

"  The  parents  are  relieved  from  a  great  burden,  especi- 
ally in  the  winter ;  the  children  are  kept  for  many  hours 
of  the  day  at  least  out  of  the  streets,  where  every  vice  is 


238  EARLY    MINISTRY. 

contracted,  and  from  the  crowded,  unwholesome  rooms, 
where  they  too  often  witness  the  worst  examples ;  their 
faculties  are  in  a  measure  called  forth  and  improved ;  they 
acquire  some  habits  of  order,  application,  and  industry ;  are 
trained  to  decency  of  manners,  dress,  and  appearance ; 
become  fitted  for  the  business  of  life,  and  are  instructed  in 
the  Scriptures  and  the  duties  of  morality." 

These  extracts  from  papers  and  journals,  extending 
through  the  first  years  of  his  ministry,  show  how  early 
and  how  earnestly  his  sympathies  went  out  to  his 
fellow-men  of  every  condition.  He  seems  to  have 
wished — to  quote  again  his  diary — "  to  associate  with 
all  classes,  to  know  their  wants,  and  to  become  ac- 
quainted with  the  world  in  which  I  am  placed."  His 
longing  was  for  nothing  less  than  humanity  made  uni- 
versal. The  spirit  that  dictated  his  enthusiastic  letters 
from  Richmond  was  working  in  him  still,  and  prompt- 
ing him  to  seek  for  every  practicable  mode  of  redeem- 
ing man  from  the  inhuman  degradations  to  which  tens 
of  thousands  are  subject  in  a  society  selfish  in  its 
principles,  laws,  customs,  maxims,  influences,  tenden- 
cies. He  saw  that  actual  life  in  Christian  communi- 
ties is  a  hideous  mockery  of  the  generally  professed 
discipleship  to  Him  whose  last  symbolic  act  was  to 
gird  himself  with  a  towel  and  to  wash  his  disciples' 
feet,  whose  test  of  distinction  was,  "  Let  him  that 
would  be  greatest  among  you  be  the  servant  of  all," 
and  who  left  as  his  dying  legacy  the  new  command- 
ment, "  As  I  have  loved  you,  so  love  ye  one  another." 

But  these  charities  within  his  immediate  neighbour- 
hood, extensive  as  they  were,  did  not  exhaust  Mr. 
Channing's  interest  in  his  race.  In  the  growing  pre- 


LARGE   HUMANITY.  239 

valence  of  order,  justice,  freedom,  over  the  internal 
legislation  of  the  nations  of  Christendom,  and  of  hu- 
manity and  peace  through  their  diplomatic,  commercial, 
and  intellectual  intercourse,  he  saw  a  providential  pro- 
cess, by  which  the  scattered  societies  of  earth  are  he- 
coming  transformed  and  reunited  into  the  kingdom  of 
heaven, — a  slow  process  indeed  to  human  sight,  and  one 
accompanied  hy  trial  and  struggle,  but  yet  a  sure  one. 
And  thus  believing,  he  thought  that  a  minister  of 
the  glad  tidings,  of  universal  good-will,  was  so  far 
from  being  exempt  from  the  duties  of  a  citizen,  that 
he  was,  on  the  contrary,  under  special  obligation  to 
infuse,  as  he  best  could,  the  spirit  of  love,  the  hope  of 
a  higher  future  for  mankind,  the  sense  of  responsibility 
to  a  superhuman  authority,  into  the  hearts  of  his  fel- 
lows,— heated  as  they  were  by  partisan  passions,  and 
turned  from  their  rightful  function  of  mutual  benefi- 
cence by  worldly  jealousies. 

From  early  youth  he  had  been,  as  we  have  observed, 
conversant  with  political  movements ;  he  had  been  bred 
up  in  ardent  attachment  to  liberty  under  constitutional 
limits ;  he  had  shared  in  the  exhilarating  anticipations 
first  excited  by  the  French  Kevolution,  and  in  the  re- 
vulsion of  shame  and  sorrow  produced  by  its  after  ex- 
cesses ;  he  had  watched  the  triumphs  of  the  "  armed 
apostle  of  democracy,"  till  he  had  seen  him  rear  his 
throne  of  universal  empire  upon  prostrate  states,  which 
fell  bravely  struggling  for  independent  national  exist- 
ence, and  now,  in  common  with  many  of  the  best  and 
wisest  around  him,  he  feared,  as  an  event  by  no  means 
impossible,  that  the  United  States  might  be  needed  as 
an  ark  for  freedom,  when  the  deluge  of  despotism  had 
overswept  Europe.  In  a  word,  he  was  at  this  time 


240  EARLY    MINISTRY. 

thoroughly  in  principle  and  affections  a  Federalist. 
Later  in  life  his  sentiments  and  convictions  underwent 
a  great  change  in  regard  to  this  tremendous  crisis  in 
modern  history.  But  at  the  period  now  under  con- 
sideration he  was  opposed  with  his  whole  soul  and 
strength  to  "  French  principles."  To  him  these  were 
identical  with  atheism,  vice,  and  moral  ruin,  with  licen- 
tious self-will  ia  private  manners,  and  despotism  alter- 
nating with  radical  lawlessness  in  government.  In 
their  triumph  he  foresaw,  as  he  thought,  the  downfall 
of  the  cross.  Thus  judging,  how  could  he  do  other- 
wise, as  a  hrave  and  single-hearted  man,  than  strive  to 
check  their  growing  power  ? 

Accordingly,  in  his  Fast  and  Thanksgiving  sermons, 
from  which  extracts  will  hereafter  be  given,  he  entered 
freely  into  the  consideration  of  national  dangers  and 
duties,  and  brought  men  and  measures  to  the  test  of 
the  Christian  standard.  In  this  course  of  conduct  he 
had  the  sanction  of  such  men  as  Dr.  Osgood  and  Dr. 
Kirkland ;  but  many  of  his  brethren  condemned  him 
for  desecrating  the  dignity  of  the  pulpit  by  the  intro- 
duction of  such  topics,  and  large  numbers  of  the  laity 
were  indignant  at  his  presumption,  as  they  considered 
it,  and  officious  intermeddling  in  matters  beyond  his 
sphere.  As  this  was  the  period  of  the  Embargo  and 
the  late  war,  when  commerce  was  prostrate  and  indus- 
try languished, —when  the  bond  of  the  Union  was 
almost  severed  by  civil  strife,  and  angry  controversies 
prevailed  in  public  and  private, — when  family  ties  and 
old  friendships  were  rudely  broken  by  political  dissen- 
sions,— when  the  circles  of  social  intercourse  were 
limited  to  those  who  adopted  the  same  party  creeds, 
and  men  rose  or  fell  in  the  scale  of  esteem  as  their 


POLITICAL   SERMONS.  241 

opinions  varied, — when  in  the  theatres  the  shouts  of 
"  Ca  ira"  and  "  God  save  the  king,"  alternately 
drowned  each  other, — when  angry  mobs  tore  unpopu- 
lar editors  from  the  jails  where  they  were  put  for  safety, 
— and  when,  in  a  word,  the  nation  was  convulsed, — it 
can  easily  be  understood  that  a  preacher  who  espoused 
the  cause  of  either  of  the  contending  bodies  was  forced 
to  bear  the  brunt  of  severe  censure,  and  to  be  made 
the  object  of  exaggerated  praise.  To  Mr.  Channing 
one  of  these  results  was  as  distasteful  as  the  other; 
but  as  several  of  his  sermons  were  printed,  and  thus 
became  widely  known,  he  largely  experienced  both. 
Some  critics  went  so  far  as  to  ascribe  to  him  no  better 
motive  for  overstepping  the  usual  lines  of  pulpit  dis- 
c'.ission,  than  that  of  seeking  the  notoriety  which  he 
thus  met;  a  charge,  to  be  sure,  which  seemed  suf- 
ficiently absurd  to  those  who  knew  the  man,  and  which 
his  friends  might  have  fully  answered  by  stating  the 
facts,  that  he  had  declined  to  deliver  the  Phi  Beta 
Kappa  oration  before  Harvard  University  from  aver- 
sion to  appear  in  public,  that  he  habitually  shunned 
various  opportunities  for  displaying  his  talents,  and 
held  back  from  even  the  literary  enterprises  in  which 
he  was  well  qualified  to  excel,  because  he  feared  lest  he 
might  thus  be  led  astray  from  the  more  appropriate  du- 
ties of  his  profession.  But  he  knew  his  own  heart, 
and  year  by  year  went  steadily  on  his  course  of  giving 
with  perfect  frankness  such  warnings  and  rebukes  as 
he  deemed  timely. 

In  these  trials  he  had  in  private  the  faithful  counsel 
of  his  brother  Francis,  who  was  a  firm  and  earnest 
advocate  of  the  same  political  views,  and  in  public  he 
received  the  support  of  some  of  the  most  distinguished 


242  EARLY   MINISTRY. 

of  his  fellow-citizens ;  for  this  was  the  day  when  Go- 
vernor Strong  communicated  the  stern  resolution  of  his 
character  to  the  councils  of  the  State,  when  George 
Cabot  with  his  pen  and  tongue  cast  over  perplexed 
subjects  the  clear  light  of  his  sagacious  judgment, 
when  Fisher  Ames  held  private  circles  and  public  as- 
semblies spell-bound  by  the  charm  of  his  rich  eloquence, 
and  when  Boston  and  Massachusetts  generally  were 
strongly  enlisted  on  the  Federal  side.  His  decided 
action  had  the  effect  of  adding  to  his  celebrity  and  in- 
fluence;  and  he  took  at  this  time  in  public  respect  the 
position  which  he  held  through  the  rest  of  life.  Thence- 
forward he  was  known  as  a  man  of  unfaltering  prin- 
ciple, at  once  temperate  and  bold,  slow  to  form  opi- 
nions, but  fearless  to  maintain  them,  thoroughly  to  be 
depended  upon  in  the  most  trying  scenes,  ready  to  fol- 
low through  good  or  ill  report  his  convictions  of  right, 
and  who  always 

"  walked  attended 
By  a  strong-siding  champion,  Conscience." 

Thus  passed  the  first  ten  years  and  more  of  Mr. 
Channing's  ministerial  life.  They  were  uneventful,  but 
inwardly  rich  in  results;  and  many  good  seeds  then 
planted  themselves,  which  were  afterward  to  bear 
abundant  fruits.  Inherited  errors,  too,  not  a  few,  in 
thought  and  practice,  had  been  slowly  outgrown, — so 
slowly,  that  he  was  perhaps  unconscious  of  the  change 
which  had  been  wrought  in  his  principles.  Above  all, 
he  had  learned  the  lesson  of  keeping  true  to  his  purest, 
highest  self,  or,  to  express  the  same  fact  more  humbly 
and  justly,  of  being  obedient  to  the  Divine  will,  however 
revealed  to  his  inmost  reason.  Goodness  had  become 


CHARACTER.  243 

firmly  enthroned  as  the  reigning  power  in  his  nature. 
He  lived  the  life  communicated  from  above.  He  was 
becoming  yearly  and  daily  more  and  more  a  child  of 
God. 

From  his  very  entrance  on  a  public  career,  he  pro- 
duced upon  all  who  came  into  his  presence  the  impres- 
sion of  matured  virtue  and  wisdom,  and  inspired  reve- 
rence though  young.  He  wore  an  air  of  dignity  and 
self-command,  of  pure  elevation  of  purpose,  and  of 
calm  enthusiasm,  that  disarmed  familiarity.  Careful  of 
the  rights  of  others,  courteous  and  gentle,  he  allowed 
no  intrusions  upon  himself.  He  was  deaf  to  flatten,', 
turned  at  once  from  any  mention  of  his  own  services  or 
position,  paid  no  compliments,  and  would  receive  none; 
but,  by  constant  reference  to  high  standards  of  right, 
transferred  the  thoughts  of  those  with  whom  he  held 
intercourse  from  personal  vanity  to  intrinsic  excellence, 
and  from  individual  claims  to  universal  principles.  He 
gave  no  time  to  what  was  unimportant,  made  demands 
upon  the  intellect  and  conscience  of  those  he  talked  with, 
and  inspired  them  with  a  sense  of  the  substantial  reali- 
ties of  existence.  In  his  treatment  of  others  there  was 
no  presumption  nor  partiality.  He  was  deferential  to 
old  and  young;  listened  without  interruption,  and  with 
patience,  even  to  the  dull  and  rude ;  spoke  ill  of  none, 
and  would  hear  no  ill- speaking;  tolerated  no  levity, 
but  at  once  overawed  and  silenced  it  by  wise  and 
generous  suggestions ;  was  never  hasty,  rash,  nor  im- 
petuous in  word  or  act,  and  met  these  weaknesses  in 
others  with  an  undisturbed  firmness  that  disarmed 
passion  while  rebuking  it.  Above  all,  he  recognized  in 
his  fellows  no  distinctions  but  those  of  character  and 
intelligence,  and,  quietly  disregarding  capricious  esti- 

VOL.  I.  M 


244  EARLY   MINISTRY. 

mates  and  rules  of  mere  etiquette,  met  rich  and  poor, 
learned  and  ignorant,  upon  the  hroad  ground  of  mutual 
honour  and  kindness.  Thus  his  influence  was  always 
sacred  and  sanctifying ;  and  no  better  impression  can 
be  given  of  him,  as  he  then  appeared,  than  is  presented 
in  his  description  of  the  Good  Minister,  in  the  sermon — 
quite  famous  at  the  time — which  he  preached  at  the 
ordination  of  the  Rev.  John  Codman  in  1808.  Henry 
Ware,  the  younger,  once  said  truly,  that  Mr.  Channing 
had  there  sketched  his  own  portrait.  The  passage  is  as 
follows,  and  with  it  this  chapter  may  most  suitably  be 
closed. 

"  On  this  occasion,  I  have  thought  that  it  would  be  use- 
ful to  dwell  on  the  importance  of  a  zealous  and  affectionate 
performance  of  ministerial  duties.  On  this  subject  I  could 
wish  to  hear  rather  than  to  speak.  I  feel  that  the  place 
which  belongs  to  me  is  not  that  of  a  confident  teacher,  but 
of  an  humble,  self-accusing  learner.  When  I  look  round 
on  my  fathers  and  brethren  in  the  ministry,  whose  years 
and  experience  and  improvements  in  piety  peculiarly  fit 
them  for  this  theme,  I  feel  no  faint  desire  to  resign  to 
them  the  office  I  am  expected  to  perform.  But  my  feelings 
and  wishes  have  been  overruled;  and  now  that  I  must 
speak,  I  wish  to  suggest  something  which  will  tend  to 
quicken  my  own  heart,  which  will  stir  up  the  minds  of  my 
brethren,  and  which  will  impress  this  numerous  assembly 
with  the  duties  and  objects,  the  tremendous  responsibility, 
and  the  infinitely  solemn  consequences  of  the  sacred 
ministry. 

"  It  is  the  exhortation  of  Paul  to  Timothy,  '  Be  instant 
in  season,  and  out  of  season ;'  that  is,  '  Be  urgent,  engaged, 
in  earnest,  not  only  at  stated  seasons  of  instruction,  not  only 
when  thine  own  ease  and  convenience  may  permit,  but  at 


THE    GOOD    MINISTER.  245 

every  season  when  thou  canst  hope  that  truth  may  be  im- 
parted, or  serious  impressions  be  produced.'  These  words 
furnish  us  with  this  practical  doctrine,  that  a  minister  of 
Jesus  Christ  should  be  distinguished  by  zeal,  earnestness, 
and  affection  in  the  discharge  of  his  sacred  office.  In  the 
present  discourse,  I  propose  to  offer  a  few  remarks  on  the 
duty  enjoined  in  the  text,  and  then  to  present  considerations 
suited  to  enforce  it  on  our  consciences  and  hearts. 

"To  be  instant  in  season  and  out  of  season  is  to  be  cor- 
dially devoted  to  the  great  object  of  the  Christian  ministry. 
It  is  to  exert  on  this  object  the  strength  of  our  affections, 
to  make  it  the  centre  of  our  thoughts,  and  the  great  end  of 
our  labours.  In  this  zeal  and  earnestness  it  is  implied  that 
our  work  is  our  happiness ;  that  we  do  not  make  our  min- 
istry a  means  to  some  further,  selfish  end ;  that  we  do  not 
enter  on  it  from  love  of  ease,  or  distinction,  or  gain ;  but 
that  it  is  itself  our  choice,  and  that  we  cling  to  it  with  an 
affection  which  overpowers  all  private  considerations.  It  is 
implied  that  we  oversee  the  flock  of  God,  not  from  con- 
straint, but  willingly, — not  for  filthy  lucre,  but  from  a  ready 
mind ;  that  the  love  of  Christ  bears  us  away,  and  that  from 
this  love  we  desire  to  feed  his  sheep. 

"  To  be  instant  in  season  and  out  of  season  is  to  be  car- 
ried by  affection  to  habitual,  continued  efforts  for  human 
salvation.  It  is  not  to  make  a  few  convulsive  efforts  when 
our  feelings  are  accidentally  warmed,  and  then  to  settle 
down  into  supineness  and  sloth.  It  is  not  to  confine  our- 
selves to  a  cold,  mechanical  round  of  what  we  call  our 
duties,  and  to  feel  that  we  have  done  enough  when  we  have 
done  what  is  claimed  and  expected.  It  is  to  glow  with  a 
desire  of  success,  to  stand  watching  opportunities  of  doing 
good  to  the  souls  of  men.  It  is  to  think  that  we  have  done 
nothing,  whilst  multitudes  within  our  reach  are  perishing 
in  their  sins.  It  is  to  think  no  labour  difficult,  no  sacrifice 
great,  by  which  men  may  be  saved.  It  is  to  explore  new 

M  2 


246  EARLY    MINISTRY. 

means  of  usefulness  ;  to  inquire  what  peculiar  forms  of 
Christian  exertion  our  peculiar  conditions  and  relations 
may  admit ;  and  then  to  follow  with  resolute  purpose  and 
strenuous  effort  the  plans  which  approve  themselves  to  our 
serious  judgment.  Perhaps  there  is  no  profession,  no  oc- 
cupation, which  encourages  so  much  musing  as  the  profes- 
sion of  a  minister.  It  is  very  easy  and  very  pleasing  to 
mark  out  paths  of  usefulness,  to  set  at  work  in  our  imagi- 
nations a  variety  of  means  from  which  the  happiest  effects 
are  to  flow.  But  to  do  as  well  as  to  will,  this  is  the  toil. 
To  be  instant  in  season  and  out  of  season  implies  that  we 
carry  deliberation'  into  practice;  that  we  convert  possible 
into  real  good ;  that  no  discouragements  have  power  to 
shake  those  purposes  which  we  deliberately  approve  ;  that 
we  wait  not  to  consult  ease  or  opinion,  when  we  have  already 
consulted  God  and  our  own  consciences ;  that  we  press 
forward  in  the  path  of  duty,  undismayed  by  the  opposition, 
unabashed  by  the  ridicule,  of  the  world. 

"  This  zeal  and  earnestness  ought  to  pervade  our  whole 
ministerial  duties.  We  should  carry  it  into  our  private 
studies  and  devotions.  A  minister  can  impart  to  his  people 
only  what  he  has  himself  received.  His  own  understand- 
ing must  be  first  enlightened,  his  own  heart  first  kindled, 
before  he  can  communicate  a  rational  and  fervent  piety. 
Hence  a  minister  should  apply  with  zeal  to  the  various 
means  of  personal  improvement.  He  should  never  be  con- 
tented with  his  present  attainments,  never  imagine  that  he 
has  learned  all  which  God  has  revealed,  never  say  that  he 
has  formed  his  system,  and  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  preach 
it.  Divine  truth  is  infinite  and  can  never  be  exhausted. 
The  wisest  of  us  are  but  children  ;  our  views  are  very  dim 
and  narrow;  and  even  where  we  discern  the  truth,  how 
faint  is  its  practical  impression !  Every  minister,  I  think, 
who  studies  the  Scriptures  with  a  simple  heart,  must  feel 
that  there  is  much  to  be  corrected  in  his  views  of  religion. 


THE    GOOD    MINISTER.  247 

From  the  difficulty  which  he  finds  in  making  all  Scripture 
easily  and  naturally  harmonize  with  his  own  sentiments,  or 
with  any  other  system,  he  must  infer,  that,  even  where  the 
truth  is  held  in  the  greatest  purity,  it  is  still  blended  with 
not  a  little  error.  This  conviction,  united  with  a  conside- 
ration of  the  influence  which  he  necessarily  exerts  over  the 
minds  of  others,  should  lead  him  to  his  Bible  with  almost 
trembling  solicitude.  He  ought  to  bend  on  it  the  whole 
powers  of  his  mind,  that  he  may  attain  enlarged  and  con- 
sistent conceptions  of  the  Divine  character  and  will.  He 
ought,  in  his  studies,  habitually  to  exert  a  watchfulness 
over  his  mind,  lest  some  unworthy  feeling,  some  narrow 
interest,  some  prejudice  of  education,  some  attachment  to  a 
party,  secretly  insinuate  itself,  and  incline  him  to  one  view 
of  religion  rather  than  another.  He  ought  to  unite  fervency 
of  prayer  with  earnestness  and  freedom  of  inquiry,  and, 
distrusting  himself,  seek  the  better  guidance  of  the  Father 
of  Light  and  the  Spirit  of  Truth. 

"  But  a  minister  must  not  only  be  earnest  in  his  private 
studies ;  he  must  be  urgent  and  alive  in  his  public  duties. 
From  his  retirement  he  should  bring  into  the  sanctuary  a 
heart  glowing  with  Christian  affections.  His  prayers  should 
discover  a  mind  familiar  with  God,  accustomed  to  the 
mercy-seat,  elevated  by  habitual  devotion,  and  breathing 
without  effort  the  pure  and  humble  desires  of  a  Christian. 
In  preaching,  his  heart  should  disclose  itself  in  his  senti- 
ments, manner,  and  style.  Whilst  unfolding  the  Divine 
perfections,  he  should  let  men  see  that  they  are  perfections 
he  himself  loves  and  adores.  In  enjoining  a  Christian 
temper,  he  should  urge  it  as  one  who  has  felt  its  beauty 
and  power.  When  describing  the  promises  of  the  gospel, 
he  should  speak  with  the  animation  of  a  holy  hope.  Whilst 
directing  men  to  the  cross,  he  should  speak  as  one  who  has 
prostrated  himself  at  its  foot.  This  is  pulpit  eloquence. 
He  should  let  men  see  that  he  has  come,  not  to  dazzle  them 


248  EARLY   MINISTRY. 

with  the  studied  ornaments  of  rhetoric,  not  to  play  before 
them  the  tricks  of  an  orator,  but  to  fix  their  solicitous 
attention  on  the  concerns  of  eternity,  to  persuade  them  to 
be  reconciled  to  God,  and  to  incite  them  to  universal 
obedience.  Let  me  here  mention,  that  it  is  highly  im- 
portant that  his  manner  be  earnest.  By  this  I  do  not  mean 
a  noisy,  tumultuous  manner.  I  do  not  mean,  that  a  min- 
ister must  have  lungs  of  iron  and  a  voice  of  thunder.  Noise 
and  earnestness  are  very  different  things.  I  only  mean, 
that  the  minister  should  deliver  his  message  as  if  he  felt  its 
infinite  weight,  as  if  his  whole  soul  were  interested  in  its 
success ;  and  this  he  may  do  without  being  a  brawler.  In 
the  still,  small  voice  we  may  discern  the  language  of  the 
heart.  I  repeat  it,  this  expression  of  the  heart  is  the  per- 
fection of  ministerial  eloquence.  Rules  are  very  useful  to 
teach  us  what  to  avoid.  But  when  rules  have  done  all  that 
they  can  for  us,  they  will  leave  us  chilling  preachers,  unless 
we  superadd  that  tenderness  and  earnestness  which  an  en- 
gaged heart  can  alone  breathe  through  our  delivery.  May 
I  be  permitted  to  mention  the  want  of  this  earnestness  as 
a  prevalent  defect  at  the  present  day?  My  brethren,  should 
not  our  sleeping  hearers,  and  the  faint  effects  of  our  min- 
istry, lead  us  to  inquire,  whether  we  present  religious  truth 
in  the  most  impressive  form?  Is  it  asked,  how  this  cold- 
ness of  manner  is  to  be  remedied  ?  Let  us  not,  for  this 
end,  mimic  feelings  we  do  not  possess.  Let  us  rather,  before 
we  preach,  possess  our  souls  with  the  importance  of  the 
truth  we  are  to  deliver.  Let  us  make  our  discourses  truly 
our  own,  by  catching  first  ourselves  the  impressions  we 
wish  to  make  on  others.  Whilst  preaching,  let  the  presence 
of  the  Divine  Majesty  frequently  recur  to  us,  that  it  may 
extinguish  our  fear  of  man,  and  excite  an  animating  confi- 
dence in  the  blessing  of  God.  Were  these  our  habits, 
should  we  not  be  more  interesting  preachers  ? 

"  But  further,  the  zeal  of  the  minister  of  Christ  should 


THE    GOOD    MINISTER.  249 

extend  beyond  the  sanctuary.  He  should  carry  into  his 
common  walks  and  conversations  a  mind  bent  on  his  great 
end,  and  be  ever  ready  to  seize  an  opportunity  of  impressing 
men  with  religion.  He  should  particularly  labour  in  his 
own  life,  in  his  own  familiar  intercourse,  to  exhibit  a  uni- 
form and  interesting  example  of  the  truth  he  preaches. 
He  should  not  only  be  solicitous  to  preach,  but  still  more 
to  live,  Christianity.  That  minister  is  not  instant  in  sea- 
son and  out  of  season,  who  has  learned  to  excite  in  himself 
some  momentary  feelings,  and  to  employ  words  and  tears 
of  entreaty,  whilst  in  the  pulpit ;  but  who  comes  into  the 
world  ready  to  sympathize  with  its  evil  feelings,  and  to 
comply  like  a  slave  with  its  tyrannical  requisitions. 

"  Such  is  Christian  zeal.  I  need  not  mention  that  this 
zeal  cannot  be  maintained  without  great  attention  to  the 
government  of  our  desires  and  passions.  The  mind  and 
heart  can  never  act  vigorously  on  religion,  whilst  fettered 
and  benumbed  by  any  sensual  lust,  by  avarice  or  ambition. 
Would  we  attain  the  bold  and  persevering  zeal  enjoined  by 
the  apostle  ?  We  must  keep  under  the  body ;  we  must 
partake  with  rigid  temperance  of  animal  pleasure ;  we 
must  look  with  holy  indifference  on  worldly  wealth  and 
honour;  and  thus  preserve  unwasted  the  energy  of  our 
souls,  that  we  may  consecrate  it  to  the  work  which  we  have 
voluntarily  assumed. 

"  This  genuine  Christian  earnestness  is  too  rarely  seen. 
Ministers  and  private  Christians  are,  indeed,  very  often  in 
earnest ;  but  their  zeal  is  not  seldom  an  unhallowed,  de- 
structive fire,  kindled  at  any  altar  rather  than  that  of  God. 
There  are  some  whose  zeal  is  madness,  who  place  religion 
in  the  fervours  and  ecstasies  of  a  disordered  mind,  and  who 
shatter  their  own  and  others'  understandings  in  a  whirl- 
wind of  sound.  There  are  some  whose  zeal  is  partial ; 
they  spend  it  all  on  forms  and  opinions,  which,  though  not 
unimportant,  are  not  the  essentials  of  Christianity.  They 


250  EARLY   MINISTRY. 

compass  sea  and  land,  not  to  make  followers  of  Christ, 
but  converts  to  their  sect.  They  overlook  the  heart,  that 
they  may  rectify  the  head ;  and  make  Christianity,  not  a 
vital,  inward,  efficient  principle,  expressed  in  increasing 
conformity  to  Jesus  Christ,  but  a  dry,  cold,  barren  system 
of  modes  and  speculations.  There  are  some  who  are  ear- 
nest enough,  but  their  earnestness  is  passionate  and  irri- 
table. They  cannot  bear  contradiction.  They  do  not  ad- 
dress serious  argument  to  the  erroneous,  and  affectionate 
persuasion  to  the  sinful,  but  express  their  zeal  in  clamour, 
abuse,  hard  names,  and  all  the  varieties  of  persecution 
which  their  situation  places  within  their  reach.  There  is 
also  a  zeal  which  is  the  base-born  progeny  of  pride  and 
ambition.  It  is  ever  busy  and  active,  for  it  loves  to  be  seen 
and  heard,  and  to  acquire  influence  in  the  church.  It  is 
greedy  of  services  which  draw  attention,  and  seeks  to 
heighten  itself  by  casting  severe  reflections  on  the  luke- 
warmness  of  others.  Remote  from  all  these  is  true  Chris- 
tian zeal.  Time  zeal  is  enlightened  and  judicious,  meek 
and  gentle ;  sensible  of  its  own  infirmities,  and  therefore 
ready  to  bear  long  with  others;  not  devoted  to  a  party, 
but  to  the  wide  interests  of  Christian  piety ;  not  anxious 
for  elevation,  but  willing  to  be  eclipsed  and  thrown  far 
behind  by  the  more  splendid  and  useful  exertions  of  others 
for  the  common  cause  of  Christianity.  So  single,  disinte- 
rested, and  fervent  is  the  zeal  which  the  gospel  requires  of 
its  ministers." 


CHAPTER  II. 

SPIRITUAL   GROWTH. 

-KT.  23  33.     1803-1813. 

WE  have  followed  Mr.  C banning  through  the  first  ten 
years  of  his  ministry,  and  have  seen  how  the  living 
temple  was  built  up  within  him, — from  the  holy  of 
holies,  where  Divine  Love  shone  on  the  tabernacle  of 
conscience,  to  the  outer  courts  in  which  even  worldly 
interests  were  taught  to  bow  before  the  presence  of  the 
All  Good.  In  his  hours  of  prayer  and  study  truthful 
earnestness  had  ministered  at  the  altar,  and  in  the 
circles  of  home  and  society  kindly  affections  had  come 
up  in  tribes  to  worship.  His  profound  experience 
verified  the  words, — 

"  God  many  a  spiritual  house  hath  reared,  but  never  one 
Where  lowliness  was  not  laid  first,  the  corner  stone." 

He  had  entered  upon  the  pastoral  office  with  many 
doubts  and  fears,  humbled  by  conscious  unworthiness, 
subdued  beneath  a  sense  of  the  stern  realities  of  earthly 
discipline,  and  intent  with  all  his  moral  energy  to  lead 
the  heavenly  life.  His  enthusiasm  had  been  concen- 
trated in  a  solemn  purpose  of  perfect  fidelity,  and  the 
force  of  his  intellect  absorbed  in  solving  the  problems 
of  man's  degeneracy,  and  his  restoration  to  dignity  and 
freedom.  The  feeling,  that  he  had  assumed  the  most 
responsible  of  human  functions,  in  the  performance  of 
whose  duties  he  could  not  but  affect  a  large  number  of 

M  3 


252  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH 

fellow-beings  by  tbe  contagion  of  his  inward  maladies 
or  the  refreshment  of  his  health,  had  made  him  se- 
verely scrupulous.  And  through  every  act,  in  all  re- 
lations, he  had  offered  the  petition, — 

"  Lord  !  place  me  in  thy  concert,  give  one  strain 
To  my  poor  reed." 

His  earliest  preaching  was  pathetic,  perhaps  even  sad, 
in  tone.  It  was  full  of  aspirations  after  the  peace  of  a 
will  made  one  with  the  will  of  God,  and  of  strict  de- 
mands for  the  purest  self-denial.  But  gradually,  as  he 
was  prepared,  the  ^beauty  and  blessedness  of  Divine 
communion  streamed  in  upon  his  wakeful  heart,  like 
the  glow  of  dawn  through  eastern  windows. 

This  spiritual  development  we  have  now  to  trace, 
and  extracts  from  his  sermons  will  afford  us  the  surest 
guidance.  His  discourses,  indeed,  were  his  best  diary. 
Their  topics  and  the  treatment  of  them  were  transcribed 
from  the  records  in  his  heart ;  and  his  reproofs  and 
appeals  to  his  people  were  but  the  outward  symbol  of 
his  own  private  struggles.  In  making  these  extracts, 
the  rule  has  been  kept  of  selecting  such  passages  as 
were  apparently  of  most  interest  to  him  at  the  time 
when  they  were  written,  and  which  are  proved  to  have 
been  the  native  growth  of  his  mind  by  containing  the 
views  most  fully  and  frequently  unfolded  by  him  in 
later  years. 

The  attentive  reader  can  hardly  fail  to  be  impressed 
with  the  manifestation  of  moral  and  mental  unity  given 
in  these  papers.  Through  modes  of  thought  and  ex- 
pression merely  adventitious,  a  few  grand  ideas  are  put 
forth,  at  first  feeble,  but  slowly  expanding  until  they 
absorb  into  their  strong  trunks  and  wide-spread  boughs 


MORAL   AND    MENTAL    UNITY.  253 

the  whole  vigour  of  his  life.  In  sentiment  and  style, 
these  sermons  are  original,  in  the  sense  that  they  were 
not  derived  from  the  atmosphere  of  the  surrounding 
community,  or  from  the  leading  minds  with  which  Mr. 
Channing  held  intercourse.  Indeed,  there  was  little 
resembling  them  in  the  preaching  at  that  time  preva- 
lent in  Boston  or  New  England.  They  express  his 
deepest  consciousness,  his  intuitions  of  spiritual  reali- 
ties, his  testimony  from  experience  to  Providential 
guardianship,  hopes  which  were  gathered  from  his  own 
devotedness,  encouragements  which  were  justified  by 
humble  yet  glad  remembrances  of  his  own  success. 
In  the  strongest  sense  of  the  word,  these  writings  are 
genuine,  and  thus  truly  indicate  their  author's  genius. 
The  unity  of  his  nature  yet  further  appears  in  the 
mutual  connection  which  runs  through  his  doctrines. 
Each  part  coheres  with  the  whole ;  one  life  organizes 
them.  And  finally,  his  integrity  is  shown  in  the  steadi- 
ness with  which  he  pursued  through  the  remainder  of 
life  the  avenues  of  thought  thus  early  opened.  From 
the  outset  of  his  course,  he  was  earnestly  resolved  to 
be  what  God  designed  him  for,  and  to  fulfil  the  special 
end  for  which  he  came.  But  while  original,  he  was  far 
from  being  eccentric.  He  felt  no  desire  to  push  his 
views  to  their  extremes,  no  passion  for  system-making 
prompted  him,  no  unqualified  statements  were  hazarded, 
no  extravagant  zeal  led  to  reckless  positiveness,  and 
imagination  threw  around  his  path  no  delusive  glare ; 
but  good  sense  and  modesty  made  him  always  mode- 
rate and  mindful  of  due  limits.  Again,  while  true  to 
himself,  he  was  not  isolated  in  his  intellectual  aims. 
On  the  contrary,  his  mind  was  open  to  the  full  influ- 


254  SPIRITUAL   GROWTH. 

ences  of  the  age,  and  his  heart  heat  responsively  to  the 
great  impulses  and  longings  with  which  humanity 
throughout  Christendom  was  then  instinct.  The  chief 
value,  indeed,  of  these  writings  is  to  he  found  in  the 
fact,  that  they  are  the  answers  of  a  sincere  seeker  to 
the  questions  which  all  the  leading  minds  of  the  time 
were  discussing  throughout  Europe.  They  are  the 
observations  of  a  patient  student  of  the  skies  on  this 
side  of  the  ocean,  and  so  may  serve  to  determine  by 
parallax  the  orbit  of  the  truths  whose  light  was  then 
just  discerned  in  the  firmament. 

In  the  very  first  sermon  which  Mr.  Channing  wrote, 
he  showed  the  singular  consistency  of  his  inward  nature 
by  thus  expressing  the  essential  principle  of  all  his 
after  thoughts  and  teachings  : — "  The  end  of  life,  God's 
one  grand  purpose,  is,  to  prepare  mankind  for  the 
holiness  and  blessedness  of  heaven  by  forming  them  to 
moral  excellence  on  earth.  Redemption  is  the  recovery 
of  man  from  sin,  as  the  preparation  for  glory.  And  all 
Christian  morals  may  be  reduced  to  the  one  principle, 
and  declared  in  the  one  word,  LOVE.  God  is  love ; 
Christ  is  love ;  the  gospel  is  an  exhibition  of  love  ;  its 
aim  is  to  transform  our  whole  spirits  into  love.  The 
perfection  of  the  Divine  system  is  revealed  in  the  mutual 
dependencies  which  unite  all  creatures.  All  lean  upon 
one  another,  and  give  while  they  receive  support.  No 
man  is  unnecessary;  no  man  stands  alone.  God  has 
brought  us  thus  near  to  each  other,  that  his  goodness 
may  be  reflected  from  heart  to  heart.  Holiness  is  light. 
We  glorify  God  when  by  imitation  we  display  his  cha- 
racter. The  good  man  manifests  the  beauty  of  God." 
Thus  he  struck  the  key-note  of  the  symphony,  in  the 


HIS    FIRST    SERMON.  255 

evolving  of  whose  melodious  strains  his  whole  life  was 
to  be  passed. 

The  order  adopted  in  arranging  the  following  extracts 
is  the  one  chosen  by  himself  for  the  work  which  he  was 
engaged  in  writing  at  the  time  of  his  death,  and  of 
which  a  full  notice  will  be  hereafter  given.  As  it  was 
his  purpose,  in  that  book,  to  sum  up  the  results  of  his 
inquiries,  and  to  justify  his  leading  views,  its  general 
divisions  will  safely  direct  us  in  attempting  to  trace  his 
upward  path. 

SECTION   FIRST. 
RELIGION. 

1811.  GOD  OUR  FATHER.  "When  we  conceive  of  God 
as  a  pure  Spirit,  and  dwell  on  his  incommunicable  perfec- 
tions, of  which  we  see  no  image  or  resemblance  in  any 
beings  around  us,  he  eludes  the  feeble  vision  of  our  minds. 
It  is  then  almost  impossible  that  the  affections  can  be 
excited  and  centered  upon  him.  Such  views  of  God  furnish 
us  no  object  on  which  we  can  rest,  as  on  a  reality.  Now 
the  Scriptures  invest  this  pure  and  infinite  Spirit  with  a 
character,  relations,  and  qualities  which  we  can  compre- 
hend,— such  as  are  continually  displayed  around  us,  such 
as  constantly  address  and  touch  our  hearts,  such  as  we  can 
revolve  in  thought  and  meditate  upon  with  ease  and  delight, 
such  as  are  attractive  and  promise  happiness;  and  thus 
they  furnish  us  the  best  and  most  effectual  means  for  excit- 
ing and  cherishing  the  love  of  God.  Of  all  the  interesting 
characters  and  relations  in  which  the  Scriptures,  especially 
the  books  of  the  New  Testament,  exhibit  the  Supreme 
Being,  that  of  Father  is  the  most  common,  prominent, 
striking 

"  No  character  could  bring  God  so  nigh  as  this  of  the 


256  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

Father.  There  is  no  relation  which  we  know  so  familiarly 
as  the  parental.  What  name  recalls  so  many  thoughts  and 
feelings,  so  many  favours  and  tender  remembrances,  as  that 
of  parent?  The  Scriptures,  then,  in  giving  this  view  of 
God,  place  him  before  us  in  a  clear,  intelligible  light.  We 
are  not  called  to  dwell  on  perfections  which  are  utterly 
incomprehensible,  the  names  of  which  are  sounds  in  the  ear, 
but  excite  no  ideas  in  the  mind,  and  which  have  no  tend- 
ency to  interest  the  heart.  God  is  our  Father 

"  I  fear  it  has  been  the  influence  of  many  speculations 
of  ingenious  men  on  the  Divine  character  to  divest  God  of 
that  paternal  tenderness  which  is  of  all  views  most  suited 
to  touch  the  heart.  I  fear  we  have  learnt  insensibly  to 
view  him  as  possessing  only  a  general  benevolence,  which 
he  extends  over  his  wide  creation,  a  benevolence  neither 
very  strong  nor  ardent,  not  descending  to  individuals,  and 
not  essential  to  the  felicity  of  the  Divine  nature.  Now  this 
distant  and  almost  indifferent  benevolence  will  hardly  seize 
on  our  affections.  It  may  please  us  in  moments  of  calm 
speculation.  It  will  not  inspire  a  love  strong  enough  to 
curb  our  passions,  to  compose  our  sorrows,  to  influence  our 
lives.  For  these  ends,  we  need  to  have  other  views  fre- 
quently suggested  to  us,  — those  views  of  God's  affection  for 
us  and  for  his  wide  family,  which  his  parental  relation  to 
us  suggests,  and  which  the  kindness  of  his  providence  com- 
pels us  to  receive. 

"  Let  me  now  ask,  why  these  views  of  God  may  not  be 
cherished,  and  why  we  may  not  suppose  that  God  has 
properly  the  feelings  of  a  father  towards  us.  It  is  objected, 
that  the  supposition  implies  that  God  is  not  infinitely 
happy  in  himself,  but  derives  happiness  from  his  creatures ; 
and  this  derivation,  we  are  told,  is  dishonourable  to  God. 
But  I  do  not  perceive  that  we  dishonour  God  by  believing 
that  his  creation  is  a  real  source  of  felicity  to  him,  that  he 
finds  a  real  happiness  in  doing  good,  and  in  viewing  with 


GOD    OUR   FATHER.  257 

complacence,  obedient,  virtuous,  and  happy  children.  To 
me  there  is  no  view  of  God  more  honourable  than  this. 
Is  it  not  the  character  of  a  perfect  man,  that  the  happiness 
of  others  is  his  own,  that  he  knows  no  higher  joy  than  to 
confer  and  to  witness  felicity,  that  his  heart  responds  to  the 
feelings  of  those  around  him  ?  And  if  this  is  perfection  in 
man,  can  it  be  an  imperfection  in  God?  Do  we,  indeed, 
exalt  God,  when  we  represent  him  as  unaffected  by  the 
state  of  his  creatures  ?  Next  to  ascribing  malignity  to  him, 
what  can  we  say  worse  of  him  than  this, — that  he  looks  on 
the  joys  and  sorrows  of  his  own  creatures  without  joy  and 

without  pity  ? 

"  We  cannot  see  much  to  envy  in  the  felicity  of  a  being 
who  has  no  feeling  of  interest  and  love  extending  beyond 
himself.  Deprive  God  of  the  happiness  of  love,  and  we 
deprive  him  of  that  enjoyment  which  we  have  every  reason 
to  believe  the  purest  and  most  inexhaustible  in  the  uni- 
verse." 

1805.  LOVE  THE  PRINCIPLE  OF  HARMONY  IN  THE  UNI- 
VERSE. "  The  Christian  possesses  a  great  advantage  in  the 
contemplation  of  nature.  He  beholds  unity  in  the  midst  of 
variety.  He  looks  round  on  the  changing  scenery,  and  in 
every  leaf  of  the  forest,  every  blade  of  grass,  every  hill, 
every  valley,  and  every  cloud  of  heaven,  he  discovers  the 
traces  of  Divine  benevolence.  Creation  is  but  a  field  spread 
before  him  for  an  infinitely  varied  display  of  love.  This  is 
the  harmonizing  principle  which  reduces  to  unity  and  sim- 
plicity the  vast  diversity  of  nature, — this  is  the  perfection  of 
the  universe.  It  clothes  in  moral  glory  every  object  we 
contemplate.  The  Christian  truly  may  be  said  to  hear  the 
music  of  the  spheres.  He  hears  suns  and  planets  joining 
their  melody  in  praise  to  their  benignant  Creator.  His  ear, 
and  his  alone,  is  tuned  to  this  heavenly  harmony.  His 
soul  is  love." 


258  SPIRITUAL   GROWTH. 

1811.  THE  MERCY  AND  JUSTICE  OF  GOD.  "  Mercy  is  an 
essential  attribute  of  God,  not  an  affection  produced  in  him 
by  a  foreign  cause.  His  blessings  are  free,  and  bestowed 
from  a  real  interest  in  his  creatures, — not  purchased  from 
him,  and  bestowed  by  another  on  those  whose  welfare  he 
disregards.  He  really  loves  mankind ;  and  this  is  the  great 
motive,  first  cause,  and  highest  spring  of  their  redemption. 
Thus  I  have  endeavoured  to  place  before  you  Divine  good- 
ness in  the  glory  in  which  it  shines  in  Scripture. 

"  But  I  must  not  stop  here.  This  doctrine,  whilst  ob- 
scured by  some,  is  carried  to  excess  by  others.  There  are 
those  who,  when  they  hear  of  the  essential  and  infinite 
mercy  of  God  towards  even  the  sinful,  imagine  that  God 
has  no  aversion  towards  sin,  and  cannot  punish.  Unhappily 
the  minds  of  men  are  prone  to  run  to  extremes.  They 
cannot  be  driven  from  one  sentiment  without  vibrating  to 
its  opposite.  Some  men,  as  we  have  seen,  array  the 
Divinity  in  darkness  and  terror.  God,  according  to  them, 
is  so  holy,  that  he  looks  on  sinners  with  no  feelings  but 
indignation.  His  anger  burns ;  his  sword  is  unsheathed ; 
it  falls  more  rapidly  than  the  lightening ;  and  nothing  saves 
us  from  its  sharp  destruction  but  the  merciful  Son,  who 
interposes  between  us  and  the  descending  ruin,  receives  it 
into  his  own  breast,  and  thus  appeases  the  wrathful  Deity. 
When  these  representations  are  opposed  as  inconsistent  with 
the  character  of  Him  whose  name  is  Love,  who  created  and 
who  preserves  us,  the  mind  is  then  prone  to  reject  all  its 
former  conceptions,  and  to  form  a  deity  altogether  insensible 
to  the  distinction  between  good  and  evil,  between  holiness 
and  sin, — incapable  of  feeling  displeasure  or  of  inflicting 
punishment. 

"  But  the  Scriptures  forbid  us  to  cherish  these  partial 
and  mutilated  views  of  the  Divine  character.  They  teach 
his  essential,  self-moved  mercy;  and  this  most  affecting 
view  of  God  I  would  always  hold  up  to  you,  that  you  may 


GOD'S    ESSENTIAL    MERCY.  259 

love  him  with  your  whole  hearts.  Happy  should  I  be, 
were  I  permitted  to  make  them  my  only  theme.  Happy, 
indeed,  could  I  hope  that  no  other  motive  is  needed  than 
this, — that  the  goodness  of  God,  whenever  enforced,  excites, 
in  all  who  hear,  the  sentiments  of  gratitude,  and  the  purpose 
of  obedience.  But  there  is  reason  to  fear  that  some  minds 
are  so  fallen,  that  this  very  doctrine  which  imposes  such 
obligation  is  abused  to  licentiousness,  and  employed  to 
produce  the  feeling  of  security  in  a  sinful  course.  There 
are  some  who  think,  if  they  do  not  say,  that,  since  God  is 
so  good,  his  laws  may  be  broken  with  impunity.  To  guard 
against  such  a  perversion  of  the  doctrine  I  have  enforced, 
let  me  repeat  that  his  mercy  is  not  an  undistinguishing 
fondness ;  that  whilst  he  compassionates  the  offending,  and 
has  appointed  methods  for  their  reformation  and  forgive- 
ness, he  is  unchangeably  the  enemy  of  sin ;  that  his  very 
character,  as  the  universal  Father,  requires  him  to  punish 
and  humble  the  disobedient,  selfish,  unjust,  proud,  and 
impure,  to  redress  every  principle  and  practice  opposed  to 
the  order  and  happiness  and  perfection  of  his  creatures." 

1811.  KEGENERATTON.  "  Is  man  a  Christian  by  his  first 
birth,  or  do  his  early  propensities  impel  him  to  the  cultiva- 
tion of  Christian  virtues  in  proportion  as  they  are  known  ? 
Do  sensual  and  earthly  desires  hear  the  voice  of  conscience, 
shrink  at  once  within  the  limits  which  reason  assigns,  and 
leave  the  throne  of  the  heart  to  the  Creator?  How  many 
desires  and  habits  which  conscience  forbids  are  indulged  ! 
How  many  deviations  from  the  path  of  God's  commands  are 
registered  in  the  memory  of  every  man  who  practises  the 
duty  of  self-recollection !  A  religious  character,  then,  is 
an  acquisition,  and  implies  a  change ;  a  change  which  re- 
quires labour  and  prayer,  which  requires  aid  and  strength 
from  heaven;  a  change  so  great  and  important,  that  it 
deserves  to  be  called  a  new  birth.  The  Christian  is  a  new 


SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

man.  Once  the  dictates  of  conscience  might  have  been 
heard ;  now  they  are  obeyed.  Once  an  occasional  gratitude 
might  have  shed  a  transient  glow  through  his  heart ;  now 
the  Divine  goodness  is  a  cherished  thought,  and  he  labours 
to  requite  it  by  an  obedient  life.  Once  his  passions  were 
his  lords  ;  now  he  bows  to  the  authority,  and  waits  to  hear 
the  will  of  God.  Once  human  opinion  was  his  guide,  and 
human  favour  the  reward  he  proposed ;  now  he  feels  that 
another  eye  is  upon  him,  that  his  heart  and  life  are  naked 
before  God,  and  to  approve  himself  to  this  righteous  and 
unerring  witness  and  judge  is  his  highest  ambition.  Once 
he  was  ready  to  repine  and  despond  when  his  wishes  and 
labours  were  crossed ;  now  he  sees  a  providence  in  life's 
vicissitudes,  the  discipline  of  a  father  in  his  sufferings,  and 
bears  his  burdens,  and  performs  his  duties,  with  cheerful 
resignation  to  Him  who  assigns  them.  Once  he  was  suf- 
ficiently satisfied  with  himself,  or  unwilling  to  feel  his  defi- 
ciencies ;  now  he  is  humble,  conscious  of  having  sinned, 
desirous  to  discover  his  errors,  contrite  in  his  acknowledg- 
ments, earnest  in  his  application  to  Divine  mercy,  and 
resolute  in  his  opposition  to  temptation.  Once  the  thought 
of  a  Saviour  suffering  for  human  pardon,  and  rising  from 
the  dead  to  confer  immortality,  excited  little  interest ;  now, 
the  promises,  love,  cross,  and  resurrection  of  Jesus  come 
home  to  him  with  power,  and  awaken  gratitude  and  hope. 
Once  he  lived  chiefly  for  himself;  now  he  has  learnt  to  love 
his  fellow-beings  with  a  sincere  and  an  efficient  kindness, 
to  lose  sight  of  himself  in  the  prosecution  of  benevolent 
designs,  to  feel  for  the  misery,  for  the  sins,  of  those  around 
him,  and  to  endure  labours  and  sacrifices,  that  he  may  give 
relief  to  the  frail  body,  and  peace  and  health  to  the  im- 
mortal mind.  To  conclude, — once  he  was  alive  to  injury, 
and  suffered  anger  and  revenge  to  direct  his  treatment  of 
an  enemy ;  now  his  indignation  is  tempered  by  mercy,  and 
he  is  ready  to  forgive. 


REGENERATION.  261 

"  From  this  brief  sketch,  from  this  comparison  of  the 
Christian  character  with  that  to  which  our  nature  is  so 
prone,  do  we  not  see  that  a  great  change  is  required  to 
make  men  Christians  ?  I  do  not  say  that  the  same  change 
is  required  in  all.  I  do. not  say  that  education  has  no  in- 
fluence. I  do  not  say,  that  Christianity,  now  that  it  is  so 
widely  diffused,  and  so  early  enforced  on  the  mind,  may 
not  check  many  passions  before  they  have  grown  up  into 
habits.  But  after  all  the  benefits  of  discipline,  we  see  our 
nature  still  weak,  erring,  yielding  to  temptation,  negligent 
of  known  duty.  Still,  to  be  Christians,  all  have  much  to 
put  off,  to  subdue,  to  correct,  to  renounce ;  and  all  have 
much  to  put  on,  to  acquire,  to  cherish.  So  that  the  Chris- 
tian character  may  still  be  called  a  second  birth.  The  best 
Christians  can  ordinarily  look  back  to  the  period,  when  they 
were  governed  by  inferior  and  unworthy  principles ;  when 
the  world  was  more  powerful  than  conscience  and  God,  or 
at  least  when  the  sense  of  duty  was  comparatively  faint 
and  uninfluential.  By  the  precepts,  doctrines,  motives, 
promises  of  Christianity,  and  by  the  secret  influences  of 
God's  spirit  on  the  heart,  they  have  been  raised  to  a  faith, 
hope,  and  love  which  may  be  called  a  new  life.  They  have 
been  born  again 

"  The  fact  is,  there  is  a  general  resemblance  between 
birth  and  the  production  of  the  Christian  character.  By 
both,  a  being  is  brought  into  a  new  state,  and  a  most  inte- 
resting change  is  produced  in  his  conduct.  Here,  indeed, 
the  analogy  stops.  The  difference  between  the  two  changes 
which  are  here  compared  proves  that  the  mode  and  circum- 
stances of  their  production  must  be  very  different.  Scrip- 
ture and  experience  lead  us  to  believe  that  the  change  which 
makes  a  man  a  Christian,  is  gradual,  progressive.  The 
Scriptures  are  very  far  from  speaking  of  regeneration  and 
conversion  in  the  language  of  human  systems,  as  effects 
which  take  place  in  a  moment.  On  the  contrary,  regene- 


262  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

ration  and  conversion  are  spoken  of  as  if  they  were  taking 
place  through  the  whole  of  life.  The  Christian  is  con- 
tinually experiencing  the  change  which  is  expressed  by 

these  and  similar  terms 

"  I  consider  that  experience  as  well  as  Scripture  proves 
the  gradual  production  of  the  change  of  heart,  or  the  new 
birth.  Our  observation  will  teach  us  that  great  changes 
are  not  often  suddenly  produced  in  the  human  character. 
There  are,  indeed,  instances  of  men  who  are  suddenly 
stopped  in  a  career  of  sin,  and  seem  almost  in  a  moment 
to  turn  back  and  retrace  their  steps.  But  religion  is  gene- 
rally introduced  and  formed  in  us  by  a  gentler  operation. 
Where  religious  instruction  has  been  given  in  early  years, 
there  is  always  some  conviction  of  duty  to  God,  some  sensi- 
bility to  sin,  some  uneasiness  at  neglect  of  religion,  some 
vague  purpose  of  improvement.  This  seems  to  be  the  first 
stage  of  the  religious  character ;  and  some  never  pass  be- 
yond this,  beyond  a  feeble  and  deceitful  purpose  of  being 
better.  Others,  as  they  advance,  have  their  attention  in 
various  methods  drawn  to  religion  and  a  future  life.  Per- 
haps some  gross  sin,  into  which  they  are  hurried,  startles 
their  consciences,  and  forces  on  them  the  thought  of  their 
exposure  to  God's  dreadful  displeasure.  Perhaps  some 
religious  companion,  or  good  example,  wins  their  affections, 
impresses  them  with  the  loveliness  and  importance  of 
Christian  virtue,  and  shows  them  by  contrast  their  own 
miserable  deficiency.  Perhaps  some  affliction  throws  a 
gloom  over  the  present  state,  leads  them  to  consider  the 
emptiness  of  the  world  and  the  need  of  divine  support, 
and  directs  their  dejected  minds  to  that  gospel  which  is 
the  only  comforter  of  human  woe.  Perhaps  sudden,  un- 
expected blessings  recall  powerfully  to  them  their  heavenly 
Benefactor,  and  fasten  on  them  a  painful  sense  of  their 
ingratitude.  Perhaps  an  alarming  providence,  danger- 
ous sickness,  the  near  approach  of  death,  appals,  compels 


REGENERATION.  263 

them  to  look  into  eternity,  and  to  feel  the  necessity  of  pre- 
paration for  another  life.  Perhaps  a  serious  discourse 
arrests  their  thoughts,  and  convinces  them  that  the  con- 
cerns of  their  souls  are  too  weighty  to  be  trifled  with.  By 
these  and  other  means,  their  attention  is  awakened  to  re- 
ligion. Attention  produces  solicitude ;  for  none  can  think 
seriously  on  the  subject  without  feeling  that  they  have  sins 
to  be  forsaken,  to  be  forgiven.  This  solicitude  produces 
prayer;  and  prayer  obtains  the  aid  and  influence  of  our 
merciful  Father  in  heaven.  The  scriptures  are  read  with 
new  seriousness,  interest,  self-application.  The  mediation 
and  promises  of  Jesus  Christ  are  embraced  with  new  grati- 
tude and  hope.  His  example  appears  more  amiable,  ex- 
cellent, worthy  of  imitation  and  obedience  ;  gross  sins  are 
forsaken ;  irregular  desires  are  checked ;  gradually  the  de- 
liberate purpose  is  formed  of  following  him ;  and  at  length 
this  becomes  the  strongest  and  most  settled  purpose  of  the 
soul. 

"  This  may  be  considered  as  an  outline  of  the  general 
method  of  regeneration.  I  am  sensible  that  there  is  a 
great  variety  in  the  paths  by  which  men  are  brought  to 
God.  No  two  minds  resemble  each  other  in  all  their  feel- 
ings. The  religious  history  of  every  man  is  in  some  mea- 
sure his  own,  peculiar  to  himself.  The  experience  of  each 
is  influenced  by  his  education,  his  companions,  the  kind  of 
instruction  he  hears,  and  by  his  natural  temperament. 
The  timid  mind  is  awakened  by  the  terrors  of  the  Lord ; 
the  tender  and  affectionate  is  drawn  by  his  mercies.  But 
amidst  this  great  variety,  the  multitude  of  Christians  agree 
in  this,  that  they  can  point  to  no  particular  moment  when 
a  change  was  wrought  in  their  hearts.  Their  religion  has 
grown  up  by  degrees,  very  often  as  silently  and  imper- 
ceptibly as  the  tree — to  which  it  is  compared — sends  forth 
its  roots  and  branches." 


264  SPIRITUAL   GROWTH. 

1810.  LOVE  OF  GOD.  "The  love  of  God  which  the 
Scriptures  call  us  to  cherish,  and  which  we  are  formed  to 
attain  and  enjoy,  is  not  a  blind  irrational  sentiment.  It  is 
founded  on  the  clearest  views  of  the  understanding,  on  the 
abundant  evidence  we  possess,  that  there  is  an  Infinite 
Being,  in  whom  reside  wisdom,  and  power,  and  goodness, 
without  beginning,  or  end,  or  any  limit ;  who  sustains  to 
us  the  near  and  tender  relation  of  Creator,  Father,  Bene- 
factor and  Lord ;  whose  commands  are  equitable  and  kind  ; 
and  who  is  willing  to  pardon  our  offences  on  the  terms  of 
repentance.  It  is  the  offering  of  the  heart  to  this  best  of 
beings ;  it  venerates  his  majesty,  esteems  and  adores  his 
excellence,  is  grateful  for  his  goodness,  rejoices  in  his 
felicity  and  in  the  felicity  of  his  creation,  implores  his 
forgiveness,  resigns  itself  to  his  providence,  and  desires 
to  do  his  will ;  and  is  this  an  affection  to  be  decried  and 
renounced  ?  In  the  love  of  God  are  united  the  most  de- 
lightful affections  we  exercise  towards  our  fellow-beings, — 
filial  love,  thankfulness  to  benefactors,  reverence  for  the 
great  and  good,  sympathy  with  the  happy,  and  universal 
good-will.  These  pure  affections  all  meet  in  the  love  of 
God ;  and  are  refined,  exalted,  and  rendered  sources  of  in- 
conceivably high  delight,  in  consequence  of  the  infinite 
amiableness  and  superiority  of  the  Being  whom  we  love. 

"  Do  not  confound  this  love  with  the  ravings  of  enthusi- 
asm. It  is  a  calm,  mild,  reverential  sentiment,  improving 
the  understanding,  subduing  the  passions,  giving  serenity 
to  affliction,  and  uniformity  to  the  whole  character  and 
life.  Do  not  confound  it  with  a  morose,  churlish,  and  cen- 
sorious bigotry.  It  is  a  happy,  cheerful  principle ;  accept- 
ing blessings  with  a  gratitude  which  improves  them,  de- 
lighting in  all  God's  works,  and  seeing  him  in  all,  rejoicing 
in  his  providence,  and  hoping  immortality  from  his  mercy, 
regarding  all  men  as  his  children,  and  discerning  with 


THE    LOVE    OF    GOD.  265 

pleasure  all  the  excellences  with  which  he  has  endowed 
them.  Can  that  heart  be  gloomy,  which  adores  and  loves 
the  infinitely  wise  and  merciful  God,  and  views  him  as  a 
father, — which  associates  him  with  all  its  joys  and  pains, 
with  all  the  works  of  nature,  and  all  the  changes  of  life, 
— which  feels  him  near  in  danger  and  in  death,  and  which 
hopes  from  his  mercy  a  blessed  immortality  ?  No !  It  is 
not  the  love  of  God  which  sheds  gloom  and  despair,  but  a 
very  different  principle.  True  love  of  God  illuminates  the 
darkness  of  the  present  life,  and  is  a  foretaste  of  the  felicity 
of  heaven." 

1808.  THE  HAPPINESS  OF  BEING  LOVED  BY  GOD.  "  In 
considering  the  great  happiness  of  possessing  the  Divine 
favour,  I  first  observe,  that  they  who  love  God  must  derive 
an  inexpressible  joy  from  the  mere  consciousness  that  they 
are  beloved  by  such  a  Being,  without  regard  to  the  bene- 
fits which  flow  from  this  favour. 

"  The  Christian  views  God  as  the  best,  the  most  lovely, 
the  most  venerable  of  all  beings.  He  sees,  that  to  this 
glorious  Being  he  and  all  things  owe  their  existence ;  that 
the  universe  is  full  of  God ;  and  that  all  happiness,  from 
the  rapture  of  archangels  down  to  the  faintest  pleasures  of 
animal  life,  is  his  unmerited  and  constant  gift.  With  these 
exalted,  delightful  views  of  God,  how  full  of  joy  is  the  con- 
viction of  the  Christian,  that  this  God  looks  on  him  with 
complacency  and  approbation !  His  heart  is  softened  by 
the  condescension  of  the  infinite  Deity,  who  notices  with 
pleasure  his  feeble  attempts  to  serve  and  to  imitate  him. 
He  would  not  resign  the  honour  of  such  friendship  for  the 
empire  of  the  universe. 

"  My  friends,  did  your  hearts  never  beat  with  joy,  when 
you  have  seen  the  eye  of  a  beloved  and  revered  friend  and 
benefactor  fixed  on  you  with  tenderness  and  approbation  ; 
and  can  you  be  wholly  insensible  to  the  pleasure  of  him 


266  SPIRITUAL   GROWTH. 

who  feels  the  presence  of  God  wherever  he  goes,  and  is 
able  to  say,  '  The  infinite  Parent  of  the  universe  is  my  ap- 
proving friend  ? '  Can  any  one  be  so  blind  as  not  to  see 
that  here  is  a  source  of  unfailing,  of  increasing  happiness  ? 
To  the  real  Christian,  the  Divine  character  continually 
becomes  more  and  more  amiable.  All  creation,  all  the 
events  of  life,  tend  to  endear  to  him  his  God.  But  the 
more  he  loves  God,  the  more  he  must  delight  in  the  con- 
sciousness of  his  favour.  The  more  his  conceptions  of  the 
Supreme  being  are  enlarged,  the  more  his  heart  must 
thrill  at  the  thought,  that  this  Being  looks  on  him  with  the 
tenderness  of  friendship.  You  who  know  not  from  ex- 
perience the  pure  and  joyful  sensations  which  are  here  de- 
scribed, can  you  form  no  conception  of  the  happiness  of 
that  man  who  looks  round  with  adoring  humility  on  the 
immensity  of  creation,  on  the  endless  variety  of  Divine 
blessings,  and  in  the  midst  of  his  reverence  and  gratitude 
feels  that  the  universal  Parent,  though  encircled  in  his 
majesty,  thinks  of  him  continually,  despises  not  his  humble 
offering,  is  well  pleased  with  his  sacrifices  of  praise  and 
love,  and  beai's  towards  him  an  increasing,  an  unbounded 
affection  ?  Are  you  so  debased,  as  to  prefer  the  sordid 
pleasures  of  sense,  of  the  world,  to  a  happiness  so  rational, 
so  sublime  ?  Can  you  consent  to  live  without  this  delight- 
ful conviction,  that  the  God  who  made  you,  the  best  of 

beings,  delights  in  you  as  his  children  and  servants  ? 

"  Is  there  one  who  is  wholly  insensible  to  the  blessedness 
of  that  man  who  has  liberty  of  access  to  God,  approaches 
him  with  confidence,  speaks  to  him  as  a  friend,  spreads 
before  him  all  his  wants,  believes  that  he  is  heard,  and 
knows  that  he  shall  advance  continually  nearer  and  nearer 
to  his  Father,  and  be  introduced  to  his  presence  in  a  purer 
world  ?  These  are  the  indescribable  enjoyments  of  the 
man  who  is  reconciled  to  God.  The  Christian  who  views 
God  as  his  approving  friend  needs  no  compulsion  to  bring 


THE    JOY    OF   THE    CHRISTIAN.  2fi7 

him  into  the  Divine  presence.  The  thought,  that  God 
condescends  to  regard  him  with  a  favourable  eye,  swells  his 
heart  with  unutterable  gratitude,  and  gives  new  ardour  and 
confidence  to  his  devotions.  He  no  longer  worships  with 
cold  formality  a  distant  Deity,  but  casts  himself  into  the 
arms  of  an  ever-present  Father.  He  no  longer  shrinks 
from  God,  as  a  being  whom  he  has  offended.  He  may, 
indeed,  shed  tears,  but  they  are  filial  tears ;  he  may  blush, 
but  it  is  from  ingenuous  shame,  called  forth  by  unmerited 
love ;  he  feels  that  the  Father  whom  he  has  offended  has 
requited  his  guilt  with  infinite  tenderness,  and  the  recol- 
lection of  his  sins  only  gives  a  new  glow  and  sensibility  to 
the  exercise  of  his  devotion.  What  happy  communion 
necessarily  results  from  a  consciousness  of  the  favour  of 
God !  This  consciousness  disperses  all  those  fears  which 
haunt  the  guilty  mind.  The  thought  of  God,  which  once 
was  painful,  once  filled  us  with  apprehension  of  judgment, 
now  becomes  our  highest  joy,  the  centre  of  all  our  thoughts, 
all  our  hopes,  all  our  affections.  We  glow  with  new  senti- 
ments, new  anticipations.  We  feel  a  new  dignity  in  our 
nature,  when  we  conceive  of  ourselves  as  being  the  friends 
of  God." 

1809.  UNIVERSAL  RECTITUDE.  "  This  is  one  important 
mark  of  him  who  hungers  and  thirsts  after  righteousness, 
that  he  is  not  satisfied  with  a.  partial  rectitude;  that  he  pro- 
poses all  the  branches  of  holy  living,  and  seeks  to  preserve 
a  conscience  void  of  offence  both  towards  God  and  towards 
man.  He  proves  himself  to  be  a  sincere  lover  of  righteous- 
ness by  choosing  it  without  reserve  and  without  exception. 
He  endeavours  to  become  acquainted  with  his  whole  duty, 
to  enlarge  his  conceptions  of  excellence,  to  form  a  correct 
standard  of  human  perfection,  and  he  labours  to  bend  to 
this  all  his  actions  and  desires.  He  does  not  dwell  with 
complacency  on  some  constitutional  propensity  which  looks 

VOL.  I.  N 


268  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

like  excellence,  and  flatter  himself  that  he  needs  nothing 
more.  He  rather  fixes  his  eyes  on  his  deficiencies,  and  is 
more  solicitous  to  supply  what  is  wanting  than  to  admire 
what  is  already  possessed.  He  does  not  apply  himself  to 
duties  which  are  easy  and  pleasant,  and  rest  in  these  as  his 
title  to  the  Christian  character  and  hopes.  He  gives  his 
first  attention  to  those  which  are  most  difficult,  in  which  he 
most  frequently  languishes,  which  are  most  opposed  to  his 
interest  and  ease ;  and  judges  of  himself  by  the  promptness 
and  affection  with  which  he  does  these.  He  has  no  desire 
to  substitute  one  command  for  another,  to  relax  any  of  the 
commands  by  superfluous  strictness  hi  the  rest,  to  plead  his 
general  obedience  in  extenuation  of  particular  offences,  to 
balance  his  virtues  against  his  sins,  and  thus  to  quiet  him- 
self in  a  broken,  partial,  limited  observance  of  the  laws  of 
God.  Whatever  bears  the  stamp  of  Divine  authority,  of 
righteousness  and  goodness,  he  venerates  and  loves.  It  is 
his  end  to  render  his  character  a  consistent,  harmonious, 
well-proportioned  whole,  an  assemblage  of  all  Christian 
graces,  in  which  the  love  of  God  shall  be  the  supreme,  the 
animating,  the  all-pervading  principle,  regulating  every 
desire,  setting  just  limits  to  every  duty,  and  nourishing 
and  guiding  every  social  and  useful  affection." 

1805.  GROWTH  IN  HOLINESS.  "  True  religion  is  not  to 
be  measured  by  subservience  to  a  farther  end ;  but  is  the 
end  of  ends  itself.  It  is  the  health,  purity,  vigour,  recti- 
tude, of  the  soul ;  and  can  too  much  of  these  be  possessed  ? 
Is  there  an  attainable  degree  of  them  which  we  should  not 
desire  and  pursue?  Can  God,  the  infinite  fountain  of 
good, — whose  glory  creation  reflects,  and  before  whom 
creation  is  as  nothing, — can  he  be  too  much  loved,  revered, 
or  praised  ?  Can  we  ever  render  him  all  the  honour  which 
is  his  due  ?  Shall  we  ever  embrace  his  whole  character 
and  government,  and  have  reason  to  restrain  our  views  and 


GROWTH    IN   HOLINESS.  269 

affections,  for  want  of  new  excellence  to  behold  and  ad- 
mire?   

"Let  us  feel  that  the  authority  and  excellence  of  God 
claim  all  our  hearts,  all  which  we  now  are,  all  which  we 
can  be ;  that  it  is  the  glory  of  the  hosts  of  heaven  to  be 
conformed  to  his  image  and  his  law ;  that  we  can  approach 
those  higher  orders  only  by  growing  in  piety  and  goodness ; 
that  religion  is  the  excellence  of  the  intellectual  nature  in 
all  its  varieties  and  degrees ;  that  this  is  the  only  true  im- 
provement of  our  nature,  and  that  we  can  never  rise  too  high; 
that  according  to  our  growth  in  these  will  be  our  rank  in  the 
scale  of  existence  ;  and,  in  a  word,  that  by  these  alone  we 
approach  God  and  prove  ourselves  his  children 

"  Religion  is  the  rectification  of  the  soul ;  it  is  inward 
health  ;  it  is  the  direction  of  affection  to  the  most  interest- 
ing objects.  It  consists  of  feelings  and  dispositions  which 
include  every  thing  generous,  disinterested,  sympathetic, 
and  pure.  It  is  in  its  very  nature  peace 

"  If,  indeed,  there  were  narrow  limits  to  the  Divine  nature 
and  perfection,  and  scanty  happiness  to  be  promoted  in  his 
system,  then  the  joy  of  extended  piety  and  goodness  might 
be  changed  into  sorrow,  at  the  discovery  of  the  imperfection 
and  narrowness  of  the  objects.  But  the  infinity  of  God  and 
of  his  designs  and  government  is  an  assurance  that  the  most 
fervent  affections  shall  not  be  disappointed.  His  character 
invites  the  warmest  friendship,  the  most  exalted  com- 
placency and  esteem.  His  condescension  encourages  un- 
bounded confidence.  His  goodness  animates  unbounded 
hope 

"  What  an  argument  is  it  for  growth  in  religion,  that  by 
it  we  shall  be  raised  to  angelic  purity  and  happiness ! 
What  a  commendation  is  it  of  that  excellence  which  the 
Christian  is  called  to  cultivate,  that  heaven  holds  nothing 
more  precious, — that  heaven  consists  only  in  superior 
degrees  of  this  excellence  of  soul !" 

N2 


270  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

1805.  SIGNS  OF  GKOWTH.  "We  are  not  growing  in 
religion,  if  we  make  piety  a  substitute  for  kindness,  or 
kindness  a  substitute  for  piety ;  if  we  hope  by  generosity 
to  atone  for  extravagance  or  lust,  or  by  honesty  to  atone  for 
avarice.  We  are  not  growing  in  religion,  if  we  are  satisfied 
with  performing  occasional  acts  which  suggest  themselves 
to  our  minds,  but  make  no  exertion  to  learn  how  we  may 
pursue  the  whole  will  of  God.  We  are  not  growing  in 
religion,  if  the  thought  of  living  habitually  in  any  omission 
or  any  positive  disobedience  sits  easy  upon  us,  and  makes 
no  painful  impression.  If,  on  the  contrary,  our  consciences 
testify  that  God's  goodness  and  majesty  excite  us  to  seek 
universal  obedience;  if  in  our  hearts  we  feel  that  every 
branch  of  known  duty  is  the  object  of  our  attention  and 
pursuit ;  if  we  can  hope  that  not  one  sin  of  heart  or  life  is 
habitually  allowed  and  knowingly  indulged, — then  we  may 
expect  to  grow  in  all  excellence.  Then  the  various  duties 
which  we  seek  to  perform  will  confirm  one  another.  Our 
temperance  will  invigorate  our  love,  and  this  our  piety,  and 
piety  will  add  stability  to  both.  In  a  life  in  which  all 
duties  meet,  there  is  a  harmony  which  is  favourable  to  all. 
One  spirit  circulates  through  all.  They  grow  like  the 
limbs  of  a  well-proportioned  body 

"  When  our  duty  and  our  happiness  shall  entirely  coin- 
cide, then  we  shall  be  perfect  beings  ;  and,  in  proportion  as 
we  approach  this  state,  we  approach  perfection 

"  When  one  is  growing  in  religion,  in  excellence,  he 
converts  more  and  more  the  common  pursuits  of  life  into 
means  of  piety  and  goodness,  and  makes  them  the  way  to 
heaven.  The  spiritual  temper  gives  more  and  more  its 
own  colour  to  all  objects,  and  influences  every  choice  of  the 
mind.  The  soul  becomes  more  and  more  impregnated  with 
piety  and  love,  and  sees  and  pursues  all  things  under  the 
influence  of  these  principles 

"  If  we  are  growing  in  Christian  excellence,  we  shall 


SIGNS    OF    GROWTH.  271 

become  more  simple  in  our  characters.  We  shall  be  the 
same  every  where.  The  love  of  God  and  man  will  diffuse 
itself  more  and  more  through  our  common  looks  and  words, 
emotions  and  actions.  We  shall  feel  this  temper  at  home 
and  abroad.  It  will  influence  us  when  no  eye  sees  us,  as 
well  as  when  we  are  excited  by  numbers.  It  will  lead  us 
peculiarly  to  secret,  unobserved  performance  of  duty,  to 
habitual  acts  of  kindness  and  devotion  which  lie  beyond  the 
notice  of  man.  We  shall  not  only  be  more  serene  in 
provocation,  more  cheerful  in  affliction,  more  moderate  in 
prosperity,  but  every  thing  will  take  a  hue  from  religion, 
and  lead  to  the  exercise  of  pious,  humble,  disinterested 

affections 

"  If  we  are  growing  in  religion,  we  shall  make  advance 
to  this  simplicity  of  heart,  this  harmonious,  tranquil  state 
of  mind.  We  shall  act  more  from  one  principle,  act  more 
and  more  for  one  end ;  and  hence  our  feelings  and  actions 
will  be  more  consistent,  uniform ;  the  colour  of  our  souls 
and  lives  will  become  more  single ;  and  we  shall  exhibit 
one  form  to  the  world  and  to  our  own  consciences." 

1804.  HARMONY  OF  HOLINESS.  "As  no  holy  temper 
can  exist  in  separation  from  any  branch  of  moral  excel- 
lence, it  follows  that  particular  actions  are  to  be  approved 
only  when  they  evince  a  general  conformity  of  heart  to  the 
law  of  God.  There  is  a  beauty  in  real  religion.  All  its 
sentiments  and  views  and  desires  are  harmonious ;  all  its 
actions  are  guided  by  one  light,  and  animated  by  one  spirit. 
It  is  founded  on  the  crucifixion  of  selfish  affections,  and  it 
flows  out  in  good- will  to  God  and  man,  and  in  complacent 
regard  to  all  excellence  in  heaven  and  in  earth.  It  has  no 
desire  to  avoid  particular  duties,  for  its  happiness  springs 
from  the  simplicity  and  consistency  of  its  principles  and 
pursuits ;  and  its  serenity  would  be  destroyed  by  the  coun- 
ter action  of  holy  and  sinful  dispositions. 

"  If,  my  friends,  you  are  animated  by  real  religion,  it  will 


272  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

appear  in  the  beautiful  and  harmonious  exercise  of  all  holy 
dispositions.  You  will  possess  a  principle  of  devotion  and 
of  impartial  benevolence,  which  will  eradicate  the  debasing 
and  enfeebling  lusts  and  passions  of  your  souls  ;  which  will 
dispose  you  to  blend  your  interests  with  those  of  other 
beings ;  which  will  unite  you  with  the  universe,  and  flow 
out  in  tenderness  to  man,  and  submission  to  God.  Trust 
not  in  any  single  virtue.  Tf  your  religion  be  genuine,  it 
will  draw  in  its  train  the  whole  of  moral  excellence. 
Search,  then,  whether  in  all  respects  you  are  conformed  to 
the  law  of  God." 

1805.  FUTURE  REWARDS  OF  USEFULNESS.  "  One  great 
end  of  the  Deity  in  forming  such  an  extensive  connection 
and  dependence  in  his  system  undoubtedly  is,  that  he  may 
give  room  to  the  benevolent  exertions  of  his  children.  He 
peculiarly  delights  in  communicating  happiness  through 
the  good  exertions  of  his  creatures.  He  has  so  constituted 
the  universe,  that  its  happiness  flows  from  the  co-operation 
of  its  various  parts,  from  benevolent  reciprocation,  and  the 
mutual  dispensing  of  blessings.  God,  therefore,  may  be 
considered  as  governing,  not  so  much  to  impart  good  im- 
mediately, as  to  bless  the  good  exertions  of  the  benevolent. 
Hence  we  see  that  every  benevolent  deed  will  produce  by 
its  success  peace  and  joy  to  the  heart  from  which  it  flows  ; 
for  there  is  One  infinitely  wise  and  powerful,  who  has  taken 
upon  himself  the  care  of  advancing  every  labour  of  love ; 
the  good  heart,  therefore,  will  for  ever  be  called  to  rejoice 
in  the  happiness  which  it  has  produced. 

"Why  may  we  not  suppose  that  the  blessedness  which 
will  be  enjoyed  in  the  heavenly  world  will  be  the  result  of 
the  joint  exertion  of  all  good  beings ;  and  that  each  will 
have  the  felicity  of  knowing  that  by  his  humble  labours  the 
blessings  of  God  have  contributed  to  this  abundant  in- 
crease ?  In  the  present  state,  indeed,  we  see  but  little  of 
the  consequences  of  actions.  Often  the  benevolent  seem 


HAPPINESS    OF   HEAVEN.  273 

to  labour  in  vain ;  seldom  do  they  witness  a  harvest  pro- 
portioned to  their  desires ;  and  hence  they  are  in  danger  of 
fainting  in  well-doing.  But  the  scene  which  now  meets 
our  eyes  is  narrow  in  comparison  with  the  mighty  system 
of  God.  We  know  not  the  modes  in  which  he  operates. 
We  cannot  take  in  the  innumerable  ways  in  which  he  makes 
the  labours  of  the  good  conducive  to  the  end  they  propose. 
At  the  great  consummation  of  all  things,  the  darkness  will 
be  dissipated,  and  the  good  will  reap.  Then  they  will  see 
their  prayers,  their  toils,  their  liberal  contributions,  their 
exhortations,  all  their  various  exertions  for  the  interests  of 
men,  and  for  the  kingdom  of  the  Redeemer,  improved  by 
infinite  wisdom  to  accomplish  the  happiest  ends.  They 
will  see  that  their  good  works  failed  to  accomplish  the 
object  they  desired,  only  that  they  might  conduce  to  greater 
good.  They  will  see  happiness  existing  and  destined  to 
exist  and  to  increase  for  ever,  which  they  were  the  ho- 
noured instruments  of  promoting.  They  will  be  hailed 
by  some  grateful  voice,  ascribing  to  their  prayers  and 
exertions  the  attainment  of  heavenly  blessedness.  They 
will  see  the  connection  of  their  labours  with  the  prosperity 
and  triumphs  of  the  kingdom  of  God.  And  joy  will  fill 
their  hearts  at  finding  that  they  have  not  lived  in  vain, — 
that  while,  perhaps,  they  have  laboured  in  stations  too 
humble  for  the  notice  of  man,  they  have  been  workers 
together  with  God,  and  been  permitted  to  lay  the  foundation 

of  felicity  which  shall  never  end 

"True  benevolence  is  not  happy  in  itself ;  it  is  happy  in 
the  felicity  of  other  beings ;  and  in  proportion  to  its  strength 
we  shall  ardently  desire  to  attain  to  a  state  of  existence  in 
which  we  may  behold  and  promote  the  highest  good,  may 
grow  in  goodness,  become  members  of  an  active  society 
warmed  with  purest  benevolence,  and  be  entirely  devoted 
to  the  designs  of  the  merciful  God.  The  prospect  of  eternal 
life  must  be  inconceivably  more  dear  to  a  benevolent  heart 
than  to  any  other  being,  because  this  heart  is  fixed  on  an 


274  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

object  so  glorious  and  extensive,  that  it  wants  an  eternity 
to  enjoy  and  pursue  it.  Take  away  the  rewards  of  the 
gospel  from  the  benevolent  soul,  let  him  see  no  spheres  of 
usefulness  beyond  the  grave,  let  him  see  all  his  labours 
confined  to  the  narrow  sphere  of  this  changing  world,  and 
his  heart  will  sink  and  grow  cold.  There  will  be  no  object 
large  enough  for  him  to  embrace.  The  good  heart  naturally 
allies  itself  with  eternity.  It  is  its  nature  to  expand  its 
views.  Let  it  behold  a  kingdom  of  endless  and  increasing 
glory  under  the  government  of  infinite  love,  and  let  it  be 
invited  to  press  forward  to  this  kingdom,  and  its  benevolence 
will  give  it  vigour  to  pursue  the  prize. 

"  It  is  true,  indeed,  that  if  the  common  conceptions  of 
the  world  respecting  the  rewards  of  the  gospel  were  just, 
the  benevolent  heart  could  not  pursue  them.  Men  make 
a  heaven  of  pleasures  in  no  respect  congenial  to  the  heart 
of  benevolence.  A  good  man  can  be  quickened  only  by  the 
prospect  of  a  future  world  in  which  goodness  will  be  ex- 
ercised and  displayed.  Jesus  will  reward  his  followers,  not 
by  introducing  them  to  a  paradise  of  sensual  delight  and  to 
bowers  of  undisturbed  repose ;  but  by  enlarging  their 
faculties,  shedding  new  light  into  their  minds,  and  wel- 
coming them  to  a  state  where  every  excellence  will  be  con- 
firmed,— where  they  will  behold  God  as  a  friend  face  to 
face,  and  approach  the  Divine  majesty  with  new  affection, — 
where  they  will  accomplish  the  Divine  purposes  with  in- 
creasing vigour,  delight,  and  success,  and  receive  and  com- 
municate more  happiness  in  an  hour  or  a  day  than  they 
have  done  in  the  whole  of  their  lives  on  earth.  Here  is 
an  object  worth  ambition.  Here  is  an  immortality  the 
thought  of  which  should  kindle  every  hope  and  desire,  and 
quicken  to  the  practice  of  universal  piety." 

1810.  MAN'S  SPIRITUAL  PERFECTION  THE  END  OF  PROVI- 
DENCE. "  By  these  obvious  remarks  we  are  led  to  the 
very  important  truth,  that  Providence  has  a  principal  regard 


SPIRITUAL   PERFECTION.  275 

to  the  mind  of  man,  that  divine  principle  by  which  man  is 
distinguished  ahove  all  the  other  inhabitants  of  the  earth, 
and  is  rendered  so  capable  of  progression  in  truth,  virtue, 
and  happiness.  To  the  Infinite  Mind  nothing  can  be  so 
dear  as  mind.  There  is  nothing  over  which  he  must  watch 
with  such  affection.  To  a  wise  and  good  Creator  no  object 
can  be  so  important  as  souls  capable  of  goodness  and  wis- 
dom; and  to  form,  expand,  enlighten,  purify,  invigorat  , 
and  bless  these  souls  must  be  the  great  end  of  his  adminis- 
tration. The  perfection  of  mind,  or  of  intelligent  creation, 
is  the  great  end  of  God. 

"  Do  you  ask  in  what  this  perfection  consists  ?  I  answer, 
in  knowledge,  in  love,  and  in  activity.  That  mind  which 
has  a  wide  range  of  thought,  knows  much  of  God  and  of  his 
creation,  and  loves  what  it  knows, — which  is  bound  by  a 
strong  affection  to  its  Creator  and  its  fellow-beings,  and 
acts  as  well  as  loves, — which  puts  forth  all  its  powers,  em- 
ploys all  its  knowledge,  in  the  service  of  God,  and  in  bless- 
ing his  creatures, — that  mind  is  a  perfect  mind ;  and  it  is 
as  happy  as  it  is  perfect.  Its  happiness  partakes  of  the 
purity  and  serenity  of  the  Divine  felicity.  Now  this  I  con- 
ceive is  the  end  of  God,  to  bring  his  rational  offspring  to 
this  perfect  and  blessed  state,  to  give  them  the  widest, 
clearest,  and  brightest  views,  to  give  them  the  strongest, 
purest,  most  disinterested  love,  and  to  form  them  to  the 
most  vigorous  and  efficient  exertion  of  all  their  powers  in 
the  promotion  of  the  best  designs." 

SECTION    SECOND. 

HUMAN   NATURE. 

1811.  PRINCIPLE  OF  RELIGION  IN  HUMAN  NATURE.  "We 
have  not  merely  capacities  of  attaining  just  ideas  of  God ; 
there  is  a  foundation  in  our  nature  for  feeling  and  loving, 

N  3 


276  SPIRITUAL   GROWTH. 

as  well  as  discerning,  his  character.  Let  us  dwell  on  this 
point.  In  human  nature  there  is  a  sensibility  to  what  is 
great  and  good.  There  is  no  man  whose  heart  has  not 
sometimes  been  moved,  when  he  has  heard  of  illustrious 
deeds,  of  pure,  exalted,  disinterested  goodness,  of  an  en- 
larged and  vigorous  mind  employed  in  vast  and  noble 
designs.  Now  this  moral  sensibility  is  a  preparative  for 
the  love  of  God,  an  impulse  towards  him,  and  evidently 
designed  to  be  a  bond  of  union  between  him  and  the  human 
heart.  In  his  character  alone  can  this  love  of  excellence 
find  an  adequate  object  and  full  gratification.  We  represent 
to  ourselves  higher  excellences  than  we  discern  in  the  best 
around  us,  and  want  a  purer  and  more  disinterested  friend 
than  earth  can  give.  God  is  the  only  being  without  stain 
or  blemish,  without  excess  or  defect.  He  is  unerring 
wisdom,  unsullied  purity,  unfailing  faithfulness,  impartial 
rectitude,  and  unbounded,  unwearied,  all -ennobling,  uni- 
versal goodness.  Are  we  so  constituted,  that  these  qualities, 
when  dimly  seen  in  imperfect  man,  impress  the  heart,  and 
shall  we  not  direct  our  minds  and  hearts  to  this  Being,  in 
whom  they  are  concentred  in  infinite  perfection,  and  shine 
with  unclouded  splendour  ? 

"  This  sensibility  to  excellence  should  be  cherished  by 
us,  and  employed  to  unite  us  to  God.  Have  you  ever  felt 
the  heart  glow,  whilst  you  have  contemplated  the  true  and 
good '?  Then  you  will  acknowledge  that  this  is  one  of  the 
happiest,  most  improving,  and  ennobling  sentiments  of 
which  we  are  capable.  We  not  only  enjoy,  but  catch 
the  excellence  we  admire.  That  mind  which  is  often 
directed  towards  the  best  of  beings  will  not  only  possess  a 
happiness  peculiarly  pure  and  refined ;  it  will  approach  the 
goodness  it  loves,  it  will  catch  a  ray  of  the  celestial  glory, 
it  will  be  changed  into  the  same  image.  God  cannot  enter 
the  heart  without  leaving  traces  of  himself.  It  might  seem 
presumptuous  to  speak  of  man  as  being  a  partaker  of  the 


PRINCIPLE    OF   RELIGION.  277 

Divine  nature,  did  not  Scripture  employ  this  bold  and 
elevated  language.  But  this  is  really  the  happiness  of  him 
who  contemplates  God  in  his  venerable  and  amiable  per- 
fections, until  he  is  warmed  with  love.  Why,  then,  do  we 
not  love  God? 

"  God  is,  in  the  strictest  propriety  of  language,  our 
Father.  What  is  the  love  of  God,  then,  but  a  refined 
filial  affection  ?  And  this  is  an  affection  which  we  drew  in 
with  our  first  breath,  and  which  was  implanted  at  the  very 
dawn  of  our  being.  From  this  view  of  love  to  God,  we 
may  see  that  the  foundation  of  it  is  laid,  that  the  heart  is 
in  a  degree  prepared  for  it,  by  the  earliest  feelings.  We 
were  learning  this  duty  as  soon  as  we  began  to  learn  any 
thing.  This  bond  of  union  with  God  was  formed  in  our 
cradle ;  why,  then,  do  we  not  follow  this  indication  of  the 
end  for  which  we  were  formed  ?  Why  do  we  not  lift  up 
our  hearts  to  our  Heavenly  Father?  Does  not  the  senti- 
ment of  filial  reverence  and  love  towards  such  a  parent 
approve  itself  to  our  minds,  our  consciences,  as  reasonable, 
becoming,  fair,  and  lovely  ?  Is  man  ever  more  ennobled 
than  when  he  feels  his  high  and  near  relation  as  a  child  of 
the  infinite  God  ? 

"  Let  me  mention  one  other  principle  of  our  nature 
which  forms  a  foundation  of  the  love  of  God,  and  marks  us 
out  as  designed  for  piety.  I  refer  to  that  sense  of  the  in- 
sufficiency of  worldly  enjoyments,  to  that  thirst  for  higher 
happiness  than  the  world  can  give  us,  which  I  trust  all  who 
hear  me  have  felt  and  can  understand.  There  is  an  un- 
satiableness  in  human  desires.  Look  where  we  will  among 
our  fellow-beings,  and  we  can  hardly  avoid  seeing  that  there 
is  disproportion  between  the  capacious  mind  of  man  and 
the  sources  of  enjoyment  by  which  he  is  surrounded.  Our 
wants,  instead  of  being  satisfied,  grow  with  possession. 
We  imagine  that  this  and  another  object  will  fill  our  minds 
and  wishes.  We  obtain  it,  and  are  still  hungering  and  dis- 
contented as  before.  The  first  moment  of  success  and 


278  .  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

gratification  may  inspire  transport,  but  we  soon  feel  that 
the  good  we  have  sought  is  insufficient.  It  leaves  a  void. 
Perhaps  it  only  inflames  desire,  and  makes  us  more  restless 
than  before.  With  an  ardent  thirst  for  happiness,  for  in- 
creasing, permanent,  and  even  endless  happiness,  we  are 
placed  in  a  world  where  nothing  fills  the  mind,  where  the 
brightest  prospects  are  soon  darkened,  and  where  the  thick 
gloom  of  approaching  death  hangs  over  every  path.  In 
such  a  state  the  heart  feels  the  want  of  something  which 
the  world  cannot  give,— it  wants  an  unchangeable  being  of 
boundless  perfection,  on  whom  it  may  repose,  and  in  whom 
it  may  find  excellence  wide  enough  for  its  ever-enlarging 
capacities." 

1810.  SPIRITUAL  THIRST,  ASPIRATION.  "Have  you  not 
felt  that  you  possess  a  nature  far  exalted  above  the  brutes, 
souls  infinitely  superior  to  your  bodies,  souls  which  ally 
you  to  higher  orders  of  being, — that  you  are  capable  of 
knowledge,  of  goodness,  of  virtuous  friendship,  of  inter- 
course with  heaven?  and  has  not  an  inward  voice  ad- 
monished you  that  you  were  made  for  this  felicity,  and  has 
not  this  felicity  excited  some  thirst,  some  earnest  desire  ? 
Have  you  never  felt  that  this  intellectual  nature  admits  of 
endless  improvement,— that  whilst  the  body  grows  for  a 
few  years,  and  to  a  limited  extent,  the  soul  has  no  bounds, — 
that  you  may  enlarge  your  being,  leave  your  present  selves 
behind,  and  take  a  new  rank  in  creation  ?  Have  you  never 
lifted  an  aspiring  eye  to  the  eminence  which  has  thus  in- 
vited you,  and  been  pained  and  humbled  by  your  sloth, 
your  low,  earthly  views,  your  reluctance  to  become  what 
you  might  be,  what  you  were  made  to  be  ?  and  have  you 
not,  for  the  moment  at  least,  spurned  the  bondage  of  your 
passions,  and  resolved  to  press  forward  to  the  excellence 
and  liberty  of  children  of  God  ?  Have  not  objects  of  a 
noble  character,  generous  and  useful  pursuits,  sometimes 
presented  themselves  to  you,  and  brought  with  them  the 


ASPIRATION.  279 

consciousness  that  he  alone  is  happy  and  excellent  who 
gives  himself  up  to  them  ?  and  have  you  not  blushed  at  the 
recollection  of  the  narrow  and  trifling  objects  which  have 
filled  your  minds  and  wasted  your  time  ?  and  have  you  not 
wished  to  live  for  something  wider,  for  ends  which  embrace 
the  best  interests  of  others  as  well  as  your  own  ?  Has  the 
thought  of  the  great,  good,  and  perfect  God  never  come 
home  to  you  with  force  ?  and  have  you  never  felt  that  he  is 
the  most  worthy  object  of  your  hearts,  that  in  forsaking 
him  you  are  wretched  and  guilty,  that  there  is  no  happiness 
to  be  compared  with  loving  him,  and  enjoying  his  love  and 
presence  ?  and  have  you  not  felt  some  pain  at  your  distance 
from  him,  some  desire  to  return  to  your  Father,  some 
thirst  after  the  knowledge  and  favour  of  this  best  of  beings  ? 
Have  you  not  sometimes  heard  of  distinguished  excellence 
in  beings  of  your  own  race,  of  men  in  whom  the  glory  of 
humanity  has  broken  forth,  whose  fervent  piety,  whose 
patient  endurance  of  calamity,  whose  generous  self-denial, 
whose  perseverance  in  duty  have  almost  taken  them  out  of 
the  order  of  beings  to  whom  they  belong  ?  and  has  not 
this  heavenly  excellence  touched  some  kindred  chord  within 
you,  kindled  some  warmth,  excited  you  almost  to  rapture  ? 
Have  you  not. done  homage  to  holiness  and  virtue,  felt  that 
they  are  worth  more  than  the  riches  and  baubles  of  the 
world  ?  Have  you  not  sighed  after  the  excellence  you  ad- 
mire, and  wished  to  be  the  object  of  that  complacency,  ap- 
probation, and  love  which  this  excellence  always  excites  in 
ingenuous  minds?  Have  you  never  looked  into  your  own 
hearts,  and  shed  tears  over  the  ruin  which  you  there  be- 
held, over  your  disordered  passions,  your  prejudices,  your 
errors,  your  ingratitude  towards  God,  your  injustice  and 
insensibility  towards  men  ?  and  have  you  not  thirsted  after 
deliverance  from  sin,  after  a  better  state,  after  that  perfec- 
tion, the  idea  of  which  has  not  been  obliterated  by  human 
apostasy,  and  the  hope  of  which  is  one  of  the  first  and  most 
powerful  impulses  towards  the  renovation  of  our  nature  ?  " 


280  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

1807.  MORBID  SENSIBILITY.  "When  God  is  banished 
from  our  habitual  reflections,  we  lose  the  only  gi'ound  of 
consistent  conduct,  and  fall  easy  victims  to  temptations  and 
delusions 

"  Some  men  possess  a  delicacy  of  taste,  and  a  sensibility 
of  soul,  which  render  them  uneasy  and  dissatisfied  with  the 
grossness  of  animal  pleasures.  But,  instead  of  elevating 
their  views  to  a  spiritual  state,  they  employ  imagination  in 
refining  away  the  impurities  and  removing  the  imperfections 
of  worldly  enjoyment,  and  intoxicate  themselves  with  airy 
dreams  of  unalloyed  felicity.  Roses  without  thorns,  streams 
ever  clear,  seas  ever  smooth,  skies  ever  blue  and  serene, 
love  ever  warm,  hope  ever  new  and  gratified,  applause 
without  envy,  profusion  without  labour,  and  undisturbed 
retirement  in  the  sequestered  cottage  and  peaceful  valley, — 
these  are  the  stuff  of  which  their  baseless  fabrics  are  com- 
posed. This  wildness  of  imagination  is  one  of  the  greatest 
dangers  which  beset  unexperienced  youth.  Satan  appears 
as  an  angel  of  light,  when  he  guides  us  to  these  worlds  of 
fancy.  We  feel  a  superiority  to  the  world  in  ascending 
these  airy  heights,  and  pride  ourselves  in  this  refinement  of 
the  soul.  But  nothing  is  more  ruinous.  We  learn  to 
loathe  the  common  pleasures  and  duties  of  our  present 
existence.  After  arraying  ourselves  in  robes  of  honour,  we 
cannot  take  the  low  seat  which  Christianity  assigns  us,  and 
humble  ourselves  in  sackcloth  and  ashes.  After  relieving 
worlds  with  our  bounty,  we  cannot  content  ourselves  with 
the  little  offices  of  kindness  which  form  the  principal 
exercise  of  our  benevolence.  After  associating  with  con- 
genial spirits  and  exalted  minds,  we  find  the  common  sense 
of  the  world  insipid,  and  its  common  forms  cold  and  re- 
pulsive. Thus  this  diseased  sensibility  alienates  us  from 
our  fellow-men,  and  unfits  us  for  useful  exertion 

"  Others  waste  thought,  not  in  delineating  bright  pro- 
spects, but  in  throwing  shades  and  darkness  across  the 
future,  brooding  over  possible  misfortunes,  and  cherishing 


MISDIRECTION    OF   THOUGHT.  281 

irritable  anxiety  about  events  which  they  cannot  control, 
and  which  piety  would  submit  to  the  providence  of  God. 
Our  Saviour  says,  "  Take  no  thought  for  the  morrow ; "  but 
these  people  think  of  little  else,  and  make  every  blessing  a 
curse  by  the  fear  of  losing  it.  In  these  various  ways,  the 
mind,  instead  of  acquiring  strength  and  knowledge  by  use- 
ful exercise,  is  enfeebled  and  intimidated ;  and,  instead  of 
generous  fortitude  and  persevering  patience,  exhibits  the 
imbecility  of  childhood  and  the  irritableness  of  dotage." 

1807.  THE  DISCIPLINE  OF  LIFE.  "  If,  indeed,  God  de- 
signed to  give  as  much  ease  and  rest  to  rational  beings  as 
possible,  —  if  this  were  the  happiest  state,  —  we  might 
wonder  at  many  vicissitudes  which  we  behold.  But  God 
has  the  better  end  in  view,  of  training  up  the  mind  to 
attention,  observation,  perseverance,  and  efficiency ;  and  in 
this  view  all  those  changes  are  good  which  disturb  our 
indolence,  which  compel  us  to  look  forward,  and  to  form 
and  execute  long  and  laborious  plans.  Even  danger  is 
sometimes  the  best  state  for  the  individual.  Apprehensions 
of  great  evil  may  be  necessary  excitements.  This  is  not 
mere  speculation.  We  every  where  see  the  happy  influence 
of  the  difficulties,  exigencies,  hardships,  and  even  dangers 
of  life.  We  see  minds,  if  I  may  so  speak,  of  a  stronger 
texture  formed  by  scenes  of  trial.  Those  habits  of  sound 
judgment,  of  calm  deliberation,  of  steady  effort,  of  bold, 
unconquerable  perseverance,  which  we  so  much  admire, 
are  the  effects  of  situations  in  which  men  feel  that  they 
have  much  at  stake,  that  they  are  exposed  to  serious  evils, 
that  they  must  act  with  prudence  and  vigour,  or  they  will 
certainly  suffer." 

1810.  THE  BLESSINGS  OF  HARDSHIP.  "Let  none  consider 
this  state  of  things  as  severe,  as  reflecting  on  the  goodness 
of  the  Creator.  The  difficulties  of  our  state  are  among  its 


282  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

best  blessings.  The  distance  at  which  good  objects  are 
placed,  and  the  obstacles  which  intervene,  are  the  means 
by  which  Providence  rouses,  quickens,  invigorates,  expands, 
all  our  powers.  These  form  the  school  in  which  our  minds 
and  hearts  are  trained.  Difficulty  and  hardship  bind  us 
more  closely  to  objects.  We  love  more  ardently  what  we 
have  suffered  to  attain,  and  enjoy  nothing  so  exquisitely  as 
what  we  have  pursued  through  calamity  and  danger.  It  is 
in  such  pursuits,  when  we  endure  and  labour  for  ends  which 
conscience  and  religion  enjoin,  that  our  whole  nature  is 
called  forth  and  perfected.  The  heart  gains  new  ardour, 
the  understanding  new  clearness  and  vigour.  A  delightful 
consciousness  of  rectitude  sustains  us  even  if  we  fail,  and 
gives  a  rapture  to  success.  Especially  if  the  ends  for  which 
we  toil  and  suffer  are  of  a  benevolent  character,  do  we  re- 
ceive a  reward  which  swallows  up  our  sacrifices  and  pains. 
The  virtuous  friendships  which  grow  out  of  such  labours, 
the  glow  of  affection  with  which  we  are  embraced  by  the 
good  and  holy,  the  consciousness  of  acting  in  union  with 
Jesus  Christ,  and  the  excellent  of  all  ages  and  all  worlds, 
the  sympathy,  and  approbation,  and  love  which  we  excite, 
are  indeed  luxuries  of  the  heart  which  cannot  be  too  dearly 
purchased.  Never  does  conscience  speak  to  us  in  such 
cheering  tones;  never  does  our  Heavenly  Father  look  on 
us  with  such  approbation ;  never  are  we  so  dear  to  those 
whose  love  it  is  indeed  an  honour  and  privilege  to  enjoy; 
never  does  our  nature  seem  so  exalted,  so  worthy  of  its 
Author,  so  worthy  of  immortality,  as  when  we  devote  our- 
selves to  the  best  interests  of  our  fellow-beings,  and, 
undismayed  by  danger,  unseduced  by  pleasure,  unwearied 
by  hardship,  unprovoked  by  contempt,  and  reposing  a 
humble  confidence  in  God,  the  originator  and  re  warder  of 
all  good  exertions,  press  forward  with  every  power  to  the 
holy  end  we  have  proposed.  Who,  then,  will  repine  at  the 
hardships  of  a  good  life  ?  These  prove,  refine,  and  exalt 


BLESSINGS    OF   PROGRESS.  283 

the  human  character.  Ease,  indulgence,  luxury,  sloth, 
are  the  sources  of  misery.  They  benumb  the  mind,  quench 
the  warm  emotions  of  the  heart,  sever  man  from  his  Creator 
and  his  fellow,  and  make  him  a  poor,  sordid,  selfish, 
wretched  being." 

1810.  BLESSINGS  OF  PROGRESS.     "  There  is  a  happiness 
in  progress,  in  anticipation,  in  activity,  which  no  man,  I 
think,   would  exchange    for   a   quiet,    unchanging,   unim- 
proving  felicity.    There  is  an  unspeakable  delight  in  rising, 
in  having  something  in  view  better  than  our  present  state, 
in  the  animation  of  hope,  in  the  eagerness  of  pursuit,  in 
the  consciousness  of  having  gained  our  elevation  by  our  own 
labour ;  and  all  this  happiness  would  be  wholly  lost,  were 
we  created  in  a  state  of  the  greatest  possible  elevation. 
Were  the  inconsiderate  wishes  of  men  granted,  they  would 
place  themselves  in  a  condition  which  would  deprive  them 
of  some  of  the  best  enjoyments  of  humanity.     They  would 
leave  in  the  divine  system  none  of  those  excitements  to 
which  we  owe  the  vigour  of  our  minds  and  the  warmth  of 
our  hearts.      They  would  crowd  into  the  present  all  future 
good." 

1811.  DUTY  OF  SEEKING  TRUTH.     "  It  is  the  great  excel- 
lence of  man,  that  he  is  capable  of  knowledge, — that  he  not 
only  receives  impressions  from  outward  things,  but  can 
compare  and  combine  what  he  sees,  can  learu  the  proper- 
ties,  causes,  and  influences  of  surrounding  objects,  can 
discern  the  future  in  the  present,  and  rise  from  visible 
nature   to   its   invisible   Author.     He   is   formed  for  the 
acquisition  and  application  of  truth  ;  and  his  happiness  and 
excellence  very  much  depend  on  the  truths  he  perceives. 
A  mind  which  is  open  to  truth,  which  sees  things  as  they 
are,  which  forms  right  judgments  of  its  own  duties  and 
condition,  and  of  the  character  and  rights  of  all  with  whom 


284  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

it  is  connected,  is  immeasurably  exalted  above  the  narrow, 
dark,  confused  intellect,  which  sees  every  thing  as  through 
a  mist,  gives  to  every  thing  the  colour  of  its  own  feelings, 
confines  itself  to  what  coincides  with  its  wishes,  contents 
itself  with  superficial  views,  and  thus  perpetually  falls  into 
errors  and  misapprehension 

"  It  is  sometimes  asserted,  that  belief,  assent,  or  judgment 
is  beyond  our  control,  that  we  cannot  think  as  we  please, 
that  we  are  necessarily  swayed  by  evidence,  and  that  there- 
fore we  cannot  be  accountable  for  decisions  of  the  under- 
standing. It  is  true  that  the  understanding  is  obliged  to 
conform  to  the  evidence  which  it  distinctly  discerns.  If  I 
distinctly  perceive  in  my  neighbour  the  undoubted  marks 
of  a  certain  character,  I  must  ascribe  to  him  this  character, 
however  I  may  wish  to  reverse  the  judgment.  When  evi- 
dence is  brought  fully  before  the  mind,  and  forced  on  its 
attention,  belief  or  opinion  does  become  a  necessary  result. 
It  is  no  longer  subjected  to  our  power;  and  there  is  nothing 
morally  good  or  evil  in  convictions  which  are  thus  irre- 
sistibly formed. 

"  But  it  is  comparatively  rare  that  the  mind  is  subjected 
to  this  compulsion.  Generally  speaking,  evidence  is  not 
forced  on  the  attention.  It  is  placed  within  reach,  but  not 
so  near  that  we  are  obliged  to  see  it.  On  the  contrary,  a 
voluntary  effort  is  generally  required  to  bring  to  view  the 
arguments  which  support  or  oppose  an  opinion  on  which 
we  are  called  to  decide.  The  operations  of  our  minds  are 
left  very  much  to  our  own  control.  We  cannot,  indeed, 
judge  in  opposition  to  the  evidence  we  see ;  but  then  it  de- 
pends on  ourselves  whether  we  will  see  the  evidence  •which 
is  placed  before  us.  If  we  please,  we  can  shut  our  eyes 
upon  it.  We  can  overlook  proofs  which  we  do  not  wish  to 
feel.  We  can  select  particular  views  of  a  subject,  and  dwell 
on  them  to  the  exclusion  of  all  the  rest.  And  in  this  way 
we  may  bring  ourselves  to  believe  almost  any  thing  we 


SEEKING    TRUTH.  285 

please.  The  present  life  has  been  often  and  justly  re- 
presented as  a  state  of  trial;  and  it  seems  peculiarly 
designed  to  try  the  fairness  and  honesty  of  our  minds. 
Truth  is  not  hidden  from  us  by  an  impenetrable  veil.  We 
may  discern  it,  if  we  please  ;  but  it  does  not  present  itself 
in  so  definite  a  form  and  so  clear  a  light,  that  we  cannot 
but  discern  it 

"  These  observations  on  the  common  guilt  of  voluntary 
error  teach  us  the  great  importance  of  cherishing  fairness 
and  honesty  of  mind,  a  supreme  love  of  truth,  and  a  de- 
termination to  follow  it  wherever  it  may  lead,  or  whatever 
sacrifices  it  may  require.  This  temper  I  would  most  ear- 
nestly recommend  to  you,  as  the  happiest  and  noblest 
temper,  as  the  great  duty  of  a  rational  being,  and  as  indis- 
pensable to  a  consistent,  useful,  self-approving,  and  re- 
spected life 

"  Am  I  asked  in  what  this  honesty  of  mind  consists,  or 
what  is  included  in  it  ?  I  answer, — would  we  be  honest, 
we  must  fill  ourselves  with  a  deep  sense  of  the  infinite  value 
of  truth,  with  a  desire  to  see  every  thing  as  it  is,  to  form  a 
right  judgment  on  every  subject ;  and  we  must  labour  that 
this  desire  may  exceed  in  strength  all  those  passions  which 
so  often  darken  and  blind  the  understanding.  A  supreme 
love  of  truth,  a  disposition  to  make  all  sacrifices  to  it,  and 
to  follow  it,  though  it  lead  to  contempt,  loss,  and  danger, — 
this  is  the  very  essence  of  honesty  of  mind ;  and  where 
this  exists,  it  will  induce  impartial  and  serious  inquiry. 

"  Our  honesty  of  mind  bears  an  exact  proportion  to  the 
patience,  steadiness,  and  resolution  with  which  we  inquire. 
When  an  opinion  is  proposed  to  us  which  does  not  agree 
with  our  past  conceptions,  we  must  not  reject  it  as  soon  as 
proposed,  and,  to  save  ourselves  the  trouble  of  inquiring 
and  the  shame  of  retracting,  say  that  on  this  point  we  have 
made  up  our  mind  ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  under  a  sense  of 
fallibility,  we  must  be  willing  to  review  our  opinions,  to 
examine  afresh  their  foundations,  and  to  receive  anv  new 


286  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

light  which  our  opponent  may  throw  on  the  subject.  We 
must  be  very  careful,  too,  not  to  enter  on  the  discussion 
with  a  previous  determination  to  form  only  one  opinion. 
This  is  the  case  with  many.  They  profess  to  be  willing  to 
inquire  ;  and  yet  they  are  fully  satisfied,  before  they  begin, 
as  to  the  point  at  which  they  will  stop.  But  this  is  only  a 
mockery  of  examination ;  and  we  may  as  well  spare  our- 
selves all  trouble,  and  hold  fast  our  present  opinions 
without  pretending  to  sift  them.  Our  duty  is  to  enter  on 
the  consideration  of  every  subject  with  a  sincere  desire  to 
learn  the  truth,  and  to  renounce  whatever  errors  we  may 
have  imbibed.  For  this  end,  we  should  meet  the  subject 
fairly,  look  it  fully,  if  I  may  say  so,  in  the  face,  and  give  our- 
selves time  to  examine  it  with  deliberation.  We  must  not 
cast  over  it  a  glance,  and  from  unmanly  slath  pretend  that 
we  see  all  which  can  be  seen,  and  hurry  to  a  conclusion 
before  we  have  laid  a  foundation  for  correct  judgment.  We 
must  not  catch  at  arguments  which  support  the  sentiment 
we  approve,  and  say  these  are  unanswerable,  and  refuse  to 
look  further.  We  are  very  apt  to  shut  our  eyes,  under 
pretence  that  there  is  nothing  to  be  seen,  at  the  very 
moment  that  new  light  is  breaking  in  upon  us.  Unhappily, 
this  new  light  detects  old  errors,  and  therefore  it  is  that  we 
eagerly  exclude  it.  Instead  of  this  partial  view,  we  must 
labour  to  attain  as  full  and  comprehensive  a  knowledge  of 
the  subject  as  possible.  We  must  invite  evidence  from  all 
quarters,  open  our  ears  to  all  that  can  be  urged  on  both 
sides,  and  give  attention  to  every  argument  proportioned  to 
its  importance.  In  this  especially  consists  an  honest 
inquiry  for  the  truth.  All  our  passion  and  prejudices 
incline  us  to  hear  only  one  party.  Would  we  be  honest, 
we  must  extend  our  views,  and  weigh  with  seriousness 
what  is  urged  in  favour  of  opinions  we  dislike.  We  too 
easily  take  it  for  granted  that  an  opponent  has  nothing  to 
urge  in  his  favour.  Let  us  first  hear,  and  then  decide. 
"  After  this  dispassionate  attention  to  all  the  evidence 


HONESTY   OF    MIND.  287 

within  our  reach,  the  time  for  judging  has  come.  Perhaps 
our  inquiries  have  left  us  in  a  state  of  doubt  on  subjects 
where  before  we  were  confident.  In  this  case,  we  must  be 
careful  not  to  express  a  stronger  belief  of  a  sentiment  than 
we  really  feel.  Perhaps  it  will  be  expected  that  we  shall 
use  the  language  of  decision.  But  our  language  should 
ever  be  the  faithful  expression  of  our  conviction.  When 
we  affect  gi'eater  confidence  in  a  sentiment  than  we  possess, 
we  become  interested  in  bringing  our  mind  into  this  state 
of  confidence,  and  shall  almost  inevitably  be  led  to  practise 
imposition  on  ourselves,  as  well  as  on  others.  Perhaps,  in 
consequence  of  this  inquiry,  we  shall  come  to  a  decision, 
but  to  a  very  different  decision  from  what  others  wish  and 
expect.  This  is  a  trying  condition ;  but  we  must  show  our 
sense  of  the  sacredness  of  truth  by  steadfastly  adhering  to 
it,  wherever  we  are  called  to  express  our  sentiments. 
Nothing  should  tempt  us  to  belie  the  convictions  of  our 
minds.  It  is  better  to  be  forsaken  and  renounced  by  men, 
then  to  seek  their  friendship  by  affecting  compliance  with 
what  seem  to  us  errors.  We  are  not  called  to  be  forward, 
rude,  intemperate,  in  expressing  our  sentiments.  We 
ought  to  be  prudent ;  but  Christian  prudence  is  never  to  be 
separated  from  Christian  simplicity  and  sincerity.  When 
called  to  act,  we  should  uniformly  espouse  what  we  deem 
to  be  truth,  and  in  this  cause  should  be  willing  to  suf- 
fer  

"  This  is  honesty  of  mind, — a  most  noble  spirit, — the 
distinction  of  a  truly  good  and  great  man.  It  is  a  quality 
of  character  without  which  the  most  splendid  talents  are  of 
little  avail ;  for  then  intellectual  vigour  may  prove  a  curse, 
and  may  only  help  to  plunge  us  deeper  into  error.  This 
fairness  of  mind  is  not  a  very  showy  virtue,  especially  when 
it  is  exercised  in  the  common  concerns  of  life ;  but  per- 
haps it  includes  more  magnanimity,  courage,  and  self-denial 
than  any  other  virtue.  Multitudes  have  dared  to  face  death 


288  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

in  the  field  of  battle,  who  have  yet  wanted  strength  and 
spirit  to  oppose  their  own  and  others'  prejudices 

"  This  virtue  will  especially  give  inward  peace.  The 
man  of  an  honest  mind  has  a  consciousness  of  the  truth  of 
his  convictions,  which  no  other  man  can  have.  He  learns 
to  distinguish  truth  with  an  ease  peculiar  to  himself. 
Truth  offers  herself,  if  I  may  so  speak,  in  her  native  sim- 
plicity and  beauty  to  an  upright  mind 

"  The  fair  and  upright  mind  dwells  in  a  region  of  light. 
Conscious  of  sincerity,  it  does  not  wish  to  hide  itself  from 
its  own  inspection,  or  from  the  inspection  of  God.  It  is 
conscious  of  his  approbation,  and  confidently  hopes,  through 
his  mercy,  to  be  at  length  released  from  all  error,  and  to 
attain  pure  and  unclouded  vision  in  his  heavenly  kingdom." 

1811.  THE  HABIT  OF  MEDITATION.  "We  should  find 
ourselves  far  happier,  even  as  it  respects  this  life,  were 
we  to  learn  the  art  of  Meditation ;  were  we  able  to  con- 
centrate our  powers  on  any  subject,  to  exclude  foreign 
thoughts ;  and,  especially,  could  we  find  pleasure  in  apply- 
ing our  thoughts  to  worthy  subjects.  In  this  way  our  minds 
would  be  enriched 

"I  need  not  tell  you  the  value  of  a  sound,  vigorous,  dis- 
cerning intellect.  But  the  intellect  acquires  health  and 
vigour  by  exercise,  labour,  close  attention,  patient  observa- 
tion. The  treasures  of  wisdom  are  not  to  be  seized  with  a 
violent  hand,  but  to  be  earned  by  persevering  labour.  That 
solid  judgment  which  estimates  things  according  to  their 
value,  and  points  out  the  surest  means  of  attaining  the  best 
ends,  is  the  fruit  of  reflection  on  our  own  and  others'  ex- 
perience. It  is  not  the  work  of  an  hour  or  a  day  to  store 
the  mind  with  pleasing  subjects  of  thought,  with  wide  and 
just  views,  to  give  it  a  quick  discernment,  an  habitual 
activity,  and  the  power  of  forming  extensive,  judicious  plans 
of  action.  None,  surely,  can  be  so  mad  as  to  expect  a 


HABIT   OF    MEDITATION.  289 

capacious  and  accurate  intellect  in  those  who  live  to  be 
exhilarated,  and  who,  for  this  end,  give  themselves  up  to  a 
rapid  succession  of  objects,  who  seek  only  scenes  which 
promise  pleasure,  who  place  happiness  in  a  whirl  of  excite- 
ment, in  a  light,  hurried,  unreflecting  life,  in  boisterous 
and  extravagant  conversation,  in  bustle  and  show,  and 
every  method  of  quickening  the  spirits  and  dissipating  the 
thoughts 

"  No  means  of  instruction,  of  illumination,  can  be  so 
perfect  as  to  supersede,  to  render  unnecessary,  the  exertion 
of  our  own  powers.  The  mind  must  be  active,  in  order  to 
attain  clear  and  influential  views.  There  must  be  a  love 
of  truth,  a  desire  to  know  the  character  and  will  of  God, 
and  an  honest  application  of  the  understanding  to  this 
object,  or  we  shall  ever  dwell  in  a  region  of  darkness  and 
shadows ;  our  ideas  on  these  subjects  will  be  dim,  unsteady, 
and  uninfluential. 

"  It  is  not  true  that  a  sufficient  knowledge  of  duty  is  to 
be  gained  without  serious  attention.  Nothing  is  more 
evident  than  that  conscience  is  often  erroneous,  often 
defective.  This  faculty,  like  every  other,  is  to  be  improved 
by  care  and  habitual  exercise.  We  are  continually 
tempted  to  silence  or  seduce  it. 

"  To  attain  clear  and  just  views  of  our  duties  in  their  full 
extent,  of  the  various  virtues  and  excellences  which  belong 
to  our  nature  and  state,  and  which  must  combine  to  render 
the  character  perfect  and  the  life  truly  happy,  we  must 
employ  frequent  reflection ; — we  must  dwell  on  the  pre- 
cepts and  life  of  Jesus  Christ,  in  which  all  human  excel- 
lences are  unfolded  ;  we  must  make  our  minds  familiar  with 
the  lofty  sentiments,  pure  principles,  devout  and  generous 
affections  from  which  the  Christian  is  called  to  act ;  we 
must  consider  the  various  kinds  of  exertion  included  in 
each  duty,  the  various  modes  in  which  each  good  dis- 
position will  express  itself,  the  proper  feelings  and  actions 


290  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

in  the  various  circumstances  amidst  which  we  are  to  be 
placed. 

"  By  this  activity  of  mind  on  the  duties  of  religion,  we 
shall  gradually  attain  a  very  desirable  state  of  mind,  so  that 
we  shall  carry  within  us,  as  it  were,  a  chart  of  Christianity. 
Conscience  will  be  prepared  with  instruction  in  every  con- 
dition into  which  we  may  be  thrown.  At  every  moment, 
the  purest  and  best  feelings  and  actions — such  as  we  shall 
approve  when  we  review  our  course — will  rise  to  our  view, 
and  invite  and  attract  us.  This  habitual  activity  and  quick- 
ness of  conscience,  this  power  of  seizing  at  the  first  glance 
on  the  best  rules,  on  the  most  becoming,  honourable,  fit, 
and  useful  course,  is  most  desirable,  if  we  would  live 
consistently  and  escape  remorse." 

18JO.  HUMILITY  AND  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN.  "  Humility 
is  that  impartial,  just,  and  upright  state  of  mind  in  which 
we  view  ourselves  as  we  are.  Humility  has  sometimes  been 
described  as  a  disposition  to  deny  ourselves  what  we  have, 
to  think  worse  of  ourselves  than  we  really  are,  to  take  a 
lower  seat  than  belongs  to  us.  But  Christianity  is  a  religion 
of  truth,  and  never  calls  us  to  practise  deception  on  our 
selves.  It  does  not  ask  us  to  spend  useless  tears  and 
regrets  on  sins  we  have  never  committed,  or  to  apply  to 
ourselves  terms  of  degradation  and  reproach  which  we  have 
not  deserved.  There  is  no  firm  foundation  of  religion  but 
truth.  To  ascribe  to  ourselves  imaginary  imperfections  and 
crimes  is  the  mark  of  an  abject  and  timid  mind,  and  gives 
little  reason  to  hope  from  us  that  improvement  which  is  the 
great  end  of  Christian  humility. 

"  I  wish  to  suggest  some  reflections  on  this  leading  virtue 
of  the  gospel,  in  order  to  show  you  that  it  is  perfectly  con- 
sistent with  elevation  of  sentiment,  with  the  most  encour- 
aging and  ennobling  virtues  of  the  nature  which  God  has 
given  us.  Humility  has  probably  suffered  in  the  estima- 


WORTH    OF   MAN'S    NATURE.  291 

tion  of  many  from  the  exaggerated  and  injudicious  language 
of  those  who  have  wished  to  commend  it.  This  virtue  has 
sometimes  been  represented  as  including  contempt  for 
every  thing  belonging  to  human  nature.  Were  this  view 
correct,  humility  would  deserve  to  lose  its  place  among  the 
virtues.  It  would  generate  a  degraded  mind,  a  depression 
of  spirit,  a  low  and  sordid  cast  of  thought  and  action. 
Humility  is  to  be  ranked  amongst  virtues  only  as  far  as  it 
is  founded  on  truth.  Humility  permits  and  requires  us  to 
view  ourselves  as  we  are,  to  ascribe  to  ourselves  qualities 
which  are  suited  to  inspire  respect  and  love  as  far  as  we 
possess  them ;  but  it  requires  us  to  stop  here,  to  be  equally 
sensible  to  our  defects  and  sins,  and  to  feel  what  is  the 
truth, — that  we  have  no  claims  on  the  respect  and  service 
of  God  and  intelligent  beings,  compared  with  the  claims 
which  they  have  on  us.  This  appears  to  me  the  essence  of 
humility.  We  are  not  to  be  blind  to  any  excellences  we 
possess ;  but  we  are  to  feel  that  nothing  is  due  to  us  com- 
pared with  what  we  owe,  and  that  it  becomes  us  to  cherish 
a  sense  of  our  inferiority,  submission  towards  God,  and 
modesty  and  meekness  in  our  intercourse  with  other 
beings. 

"  It  is  a  duty  to  estimate  highly  the  nature  which  God 
has  given.  It  should  be  regarded  with  reverence,  rather 
than  contempt.  Our  danger  is,  that  we  shall  think  of  it  too 
meanly,  not  too  highly.  We  ought  to  think  of  this  nature 
soberly,  indeed,  but  still  to  attach  to  it  a  high  importance. 
Man  was  formed  in  the  image  of  God,  and,  notwithstanding 
the  unhappy  change  which  has  taken  place  in  his  state,  he 
has  yet  capabilities  of  excellence  which  show  him  to  be  a 
noble  work  of  the  Creator.  There  are  yet  in  him  powers 
of  thought  and  action,  a  range  of  intellect,  an  ardour  of 
feeling,  a  tenderness  of  conscience,  a  sensibility  to  what  is 
right,  which  entitle  man  to  respect.  There  are  yet  in  him 

VOL.  I.  0 


292  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

many  indications  of  a  being  formed  for  the  highest  happi- 
ness, the  happiness  of  wisdom,  piety,  and  goodness.  There 
are  many  testimonies,  too,  that  man  is  not  forsaken  hy  his 
Maker.  There  is  an  indulgent  providence  extended  over 
him  ;  there  is  a  liberality  in  the  supply  of  his  wants,  there 
is  a  provision  for  the  improvement  of  his  faculties,  which 
prove  that  he  is  yet  an  interesting  object  in  the  sight  of 
God.  Yet  more,  we  have  an  evidence  of  the  most  affecting 
kind  to  the  value  of  human  nature.  God  has  given  his 
own  Son, — a  being  respecting  whose  nature,  perhaps, 
revelation  communicates  no  precise  ideas,  but  Avhom  we  are 
yet  taught  to  view  as  sustaining  a  peculiar  relation  to  the 
infinite  Father,  and  peculiarly  beloved  by  him, — he  has 
given  this  only-begotten  Son  to  perform  for  us  the  kindest 
offices,  to  sustain  toward  us  the  most  interesting  relation, — 
that  of  saviour,  friend,  guide,  and  giver  of  eternal  life.  He 
has  sent  this  beloved  Son  to  take  our  nature,  to  become 
one  of  us,  in  the  human  form  to  display  the  virtues  of 
heaven,  and,  by  his  promises,  example,  and  aid,  to  inspire 
the  same  virtues  in  the  hearts  of  mankind. 

"  Here  is  enough  to  attest  the  worth  of  our  nature. 
Here  we  are  assured  that  man  is  capable  of  the  greatest, 
best,  and  most  honourable  endowments ;  that  he  can  re- 
semble God;  that  he  is  designed  for  immortality;  that 
abodes  in  heaven  are  provided  for  his  reception  ;  that  the 
society  of  that  better  world  are  ready  to  welcome  him  as  a 
sharer  of  their  excellence  and  happiness.  Consider  man 
as  a  favoured  child  of  God,  united  by  the  tie  of  brotherhood 
to  the  Son  of  God,  called  to  an  immortal  life,  destined  to 
endure  and  improve  through  all  ages,  to  extend  his  views 
and  affections,  to  fill  a  wider  and  wider  sphere,  and  to  per- 
form more  and  more  noble  services  in  the  universe,  through 
an  endless  existence  ;— and  surely  such  a  being  is  not  to  be 
viewed  with  contempt.  There  is  something  sacred  in  that 


HUMAN    NATURE    IN    CHRIST.  293 

spiritual  nature  which  the  breath  of  God  has  quickened, 
and  which  the  blood  of  Jesus  has  been  shed  to  cleanse, 
refine,  and  make  for  ever  happy. 

"  These  views  of  human  nature  are  not  only  warranted 
by  Scripture,  but  I  think  an  acquaintance  with  our  race 
will  lead  a  reflecting  and  pious  mind  to  cherish  the  same 
hopes.  We  are  sometimes  permitted  to  behold  humanity 
in  so  delightful  a  form,  adorned  with  such  virtues,  exalted 
by  such  vigour  of  thought  and  such  ardour  of  affection,  so 
dead  to  self  and  so  alive  to  all  other  beings,  so  superior, 
yet  so  unassuming,  exerting  an  influence  so  beneficent, 
cheering,  consoling,  so  resigned  and  devoted  to  God,  and  so 
sustained  by  the  hope  of  heaven,  so  arrayed  in  intellectual 
and  moral  glory,  that  we  have,  as  it  were,  a  pledge  of  the 
height  which  man  is  to  attain.  Humility  does  not  check 
these  views,  but  rather  calls  us  to  cherish  them,  to  cast  our 
eyes  forward  to  the  glory  and  honour  with  which  humanity 
is  to  be  crowned,  to  form  large  and  generous  hopes,  to  burn 
with  a  strong  desire  for  this  elevated  state.  It  is  by  feed- 
nig  on  these  sentiments  that  the  mind  is  expanded,  fortified, 
and  impelled  to  excellence.  It  is  by  this  hope  we  are 
saved.  This  hope  makes  us  to  become  what  it  promises." 

3808.  HUMAN  NATURE  AS  GLORIFIED  IN  JESUS.  "The 
incarnation  of  Christ  should  inspire  joy,  as  it  is  an  attesta- 
tion to  the  great  capacities  and  excellence  of  human  nature 
when  undepraved  by  sin.  That  nature,  which  the  Divine 
Word  assumed,  must  be  capable  of  every  good  principle 
and  pure  affection,  and  must  be  designed  to  bear  the  image, 
to  reflect  the  perfections,  of  God.  Were  man  a  mere 
creature  of  sense,  were  he  susceptible  of  no  improvement 
in  knowledge  and  holiness,  were  he  not  formed  to  draw 
nearer  to  this  great  original  of  all  excellence  and  happiness, 
it  is  incredible  that  the  Son  of  God  would  ever  have  ap- 
peared as  the  Son  of  Man.  The  incarnation  declares  inau 

02 


294  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

to  be  an  important  being  in  the  creation  of  God.  It  de- 
clares that  the  human  soul  is  a  germ,  in  which  are  wrapped 
up  noble  powers — an  inextinguishable  flame,  which  will 
grow  bright  and  clear  with  truth  and  goodness.  It  declares 
that  the  interests  of  man  are  of  boundless  magnitude ;  and 
it  proves  that  these  interests  are  not  forgotten,  not  forsaken, 
by  God, — that  man  is  precious  in  the  sight  of  his  Creator, 
that  his  powers  shall  not  be  lost,  his  nature  not  be  left  in 
ruin,  his  name  not  blotted  out  of  the  universe.  O  man ! 
has  God  clothed  his  own  Son  in  thy  nature,  and  does  he 
not  teach  thee  that  thou  art  formed  to  be  his  son,  that  thy 
nature  is  one  of  his  fairest  works,  and  that  he  views  thee, 
though  fallen,  with  unbounded  compassion?  Seek,  then, 
to  fulfil  the  designs  of  thy  Creator !  Admit  the  encourag- 
ing hope  of  restoration  to  purity ;  and  let  this  hope  help  to 
raise  thee  from  thy  fall !  .  .  .  . 

"  We  have  reason  to  rejoice  that  the  '  Word  was  made 
flesh,'  as,  in  consequence  of  this,  we  are  favoured  with  a 
view  of  human  nature  in  a  state  of  perfection.  What  a 
great  and  happy  privilege !  Human  nature,  as  exhibited 
in  every  other  being,  is  marked  with  imperfection  and  sin. 
Wherever  we  look,  to  whatever  page  of  history  we  turn,  we 
see  human  nature  bearing  traces  of  ruin.  We  see  the  glory 
of  man  obscured,  his  powers  perverted,  his  understanding 
darkened,  his  conscience  seared,  his  passions  unrestrained. 
Even  the  best  men  are  still  frail,  weak,  and  fallen  beings. 
What  reason  have  we  to  weep  and  blush,  when  we  survey 
ourselves  or  our  fellow-beings !  Human  nature  and  guilt 
and  disorder  seem  inseparably  connected.  But  when  we 
look  to  the  incarnate  Saviour,  we  see  man  as  he  was  before 
the  fall,  man  restored,  raised  from  his  ruins,  man  in  the 
true  glory  of  his  nature,  man  such  as  God  designed.  We 
see  all  the  passions  tempered  and  harmonious,  and  every 
word  and  action  expressive  of  pure  love  to  God  and  to 
mankind. 


HUMAN    NATURE    IN    CHRIST.  295 

"  If  we  have  attained  any  refined  and  elevated  sentiments 
on  human  excellence,  we  owe  them  entirely  to  the  cha- 
racter of  Jesus  Christ.  He  came  into  the  world,  not 
with  the  bloody  pomp  of  the  hero,  hut  with  all  meekness 
and  mercy,  breathing  nothing  but  peace  and  love.  He 
came,  not  wrapped  in  the  unsocial  robe  of  the  philosopher, 
but  easy  of  access,  ready  to  instruct,  stooping  to  the  feeblest 
understanding,  and  encouraging  the  most  imperfect  good- 
ness. He  came,  not  offering  sacrifice,  with  the  formalist, 
as  the  essence  of  piety,  but  serving  God  by  active  goodness 
and  purity  of  life.  In  him  human  nature  had  laid  aside 
all  its  ferocity,  all  its  pride,  its  unforgiving  malice,  its 
violence,  its  selfishness,  its  sensuality,  its  discontent,  and 
appeared  all  tenderness,  humility,  forbearance,  liberality, 
patience,  and  self-denial.  It  was  chaste  and  temperate  in 
its  thoughts  and  desires,  resigned  to  God,  unwearied  in 
doing  good,  firm  without  severity,  ardent  without  passion, 
hating  sin,  and  yet  full  of  compassion  for  the  sinner.  How 
worthy  of  God  does  our  nature  appear,  as  it  was  exhibited 
in  Jesus  Christ !  We  see  it  unadorned  by  that  outward 
splendour  which  is  so  often  employed  to  cover  its  deformity, 
and  yet  it  shines  with  a  lustre  which  no  outward  show  ever 
conferred.  How  grateful  should  we  be  that  human  per- 
fection is  thus  placed  before  us — not  in  description,  but  in 
real  life — that  we  are  permitted  to  follow  a  perfect  human 
being  through  the  changes  of  an  active  career,  and  to  learn 
from  him  the  temper  which  we  should  maintain  in  all  the 
vicissitudes  of  our  present  existence  !  The  state  of  per- 
fection to  which  man  is  to  be  raised  is  not  an  ideal  one, 
does  not  merely  exist  in  promise,  is  not  something  which 
is  only  hereafter  to  be  known.  Human  nature  has  already 
been  displayed,  triumphant  over  all  temptation,  clear  from 
eveiy  stain,  glorious  in  love  and  holiness,  pure  as  heaven, 
and  bright  with  the  image  of  God," 


296  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

SECTION      THIRD. 

CHRIST  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

1811.  CHRIST  A  GIFT  OF  GOD'S  LOVE.  "  There  are  some 
who  are  so  desirous  to  magnify  the  justice  of  God,  that 
they  represent  him  as  viewing  our  race  with  unmingled 
indignation,  and  speak  as  if  his  love  towards  man  were 
excited,  and  even  purchased,  by  the  sacrifice  of  his  Son. 
In  this  way  the  unthinking  are  led  to  associate  the  ideas  of 
an  awful  justice  with  the  Father,  whilst  they  clothe  the 
Son  with  the  delightful  and  attractive  attributes  of  mercy, 
and  consider  him  as  peculiarly  the  source  of  their  deliver- 
ance. I  do  not  say  that  it  is  the  intention  of  any  to  make 
this  impression.  I  only  state  the  fact,  that  such  impres- 
sions are  produced  by  the  unguarded  language  used  on  this 
subject. 

"  I  fear  that  false  conceptions  have  arisen  on  this  subject, 
from  the  habit  of  speaking  of  our  pardon  and  future  happi- 
ness as  'purchased  for  us  by  the  death  of  Christ.'  The 
effect  of  such  language  is  to  fix  in  many  minds  the  idea 
that  our  Saviour  has  offered  to  God  an  equivalent — a  price 
for  our  happiness — and  thus  obtained  for  us  what  would 
have  been  reluctantly  bestowed,  had  we  been  left  to  the 
mercy  of  God.  Many,  indeed,  do  not  carry  this  language 
so  far ;  but  they  still  feel  as  if  forgiveness  and  future  hap- 
piness were  a  purchase,  and  therefore  not  altogether  the 
gift  of  free  and  pure  benevolence.  I  will  not  say  that  it  is 
improper  to  speak  of  our  deliverance  as  purchased  by 
Christ,  because  we  usually  speak  in  this  manner  of  blessings 
which  have  been  procured  for  us  by  the  labours  and  love  of 
other  beings.  But  I  am  certain  that  this  language  never 
should  be  used,  if  the  tendency  is  to  weaken  our  convictions 
of  the  great  truth,  that  God  is  moved  with  compassion 


CHRIST    A    GIFT    OF    GOD.  297 

towards  us  by  the  essential  benignity  of  his  nature  ;  that 
of  himself  he  is  inclined  to  save  our  race ;  that  his  bless- 
ings flow  to  us  from  a  sincere  desire  to  bless  us  ;  and  that 
pardon  and  life  are  free  gifts — not  something  paid  for — 
not  something  obtained  for  us  from  the  severe  justice  of 
the  Father  by  the  compassion  of  the  Son. 

"  I  have  said  that  our  salvation  is  nowhere  spoken  of  in 
Scripture  as  bought  for  us  by  Christ.  I  may  err,  although 
I  have  a  strong  conviction,  that,  on  careful  inquiry,  you  will 
find  the  statement  correct.  Christians  themselves  are  said 
to  be  bought,  but  not  their  salvation.  Thus,  Christ  is  said 
to  have  '  purchased  the  church  with  his  own  blood,'  and  the 
apostle  says  to  the  Corinthians,  'Ye  are  bought  with  a 
price,  therefore  glorify  God.'  But  these  passages  convey  a 
very  different  idea  from  what  I  have  just  opposed.  They 
do  not  represent  our  blessings  as  purchased  from  God,  but 
give  us  a  sentiment  as  remote  from  this  as  possible.  They 
teach  us  that  God  was  so  desirous  to  receive  us  again  into 
his  family  as  his  servants,  worshippers,  and  children,  that 
he  was  willing  to  give  his  own  Son  for  us,  to  purchase  us 
at  this  inestimable  price.  In  the  language  of  Scripture, 
men,  having  sinned  and  become  subject  to  death,  are  re- 
presented as  enslaved  to  sin  and  to  death.  In  this  wretched 
and  hard  bondage  their  Heavenly  Father  pitied  them  and 
desired  their  release,  desired  that  they  might  be  rescued 
from  this  cruel  oppression,  and  restored  to  his  easy  and 
happy  service,  that  they  might  enter  his  family,  and  be- 
come his  property  in  the  sense  of  yielding  him  cheerful 
obedience  and  of  enjoying  his  love.  To  effect  this  most 
happy  deliverance  he  sent  his  own  Son ;  and  as  the 
wisest,  most  suitable,  and  effectual  means  to  this  end,  he 
gave  this  Son  to  die  the  bitter  death  of  crucifixion.  Accord- 
ing to  the  customs  of  the  age  when  the  Scriptures  were 
written,  it  was  very  common  to  redeem  men  from  captivity 
by  paying  a  price.  The  blood  or  death  of  Christ,  which  is 


298  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

the  instrument  of  our  deliverance  from  the  captivity  of 
sinful  affections  and  of  death,  is  therefore  called  a  price*  a 
ransom ;  and  we  are  said  to  be  bought  by  it.  This  is  the 
plain,  obvious  meaning  of  Scripture,  and  so  far  from  repre- 
senting our  blessings  as  bought  for  us  from  God  by  another, 
it  represents  God  as  buying  or  purchasing  us,  that  he  may 
shed  on  us  his  richest  blessings.  The  mercy  of  God  has 
not  been  excited  towards  us  by  the  mediation  of  the  Son ; 
but  his  mercy  preceded,  appointed  this  mediation,  and 
gives  it  its  efficacy." 

1812.  THE  LIFE  OF  CHRIST.  "  Among  the  truths  re- 
lating to  Jesus  Christ  which  should  be  preached,  I  have 
mentioned  the  holiness  of  his  life.  Let  me  here  observe, 
that,  from  the  large  portion  of  the  Gospels  which  is  taken 
up  in  relating  the  life  and  actions  of  our  Saviour,  I  cannot 
but  think  that  preaching  should  be  often  directed  to  this 
subject.  I  cannot  but  think  that  this  most  delightful  part 
of  the  Christian  system — the  life  which  Jesus  led,  the 
character  which  he  expressed — has  been  too  much  over- 
looked. The  controversies  relating  to  the  precise  dignity 
of  his  person  have  drawn  attention  from  the  holy  and 
heavenly  spirit  which  is  every  where  discovered  in  the  simple 
history  of  the  Evangelists.  The  life  of  Jesus,  as  drawn  in 
the  Gospels,  has  been  pronounced,  perhaps  with  truth,  the 
strongest  evidence  of  his  gospel,  more  impressive  to  a  good 
mind  even  than  the  miracles.  This,  I  think,  may  be 
affirmed  with  truth,  that,  if  we  would  learn  perfect  good- 
ness, if  we  wish  to  warm  our  hearts  with  the  love  of  it,  we 
can  adopt  no  method  so  effectual  as  the  study,  the  frequent 
contemplation,  of  the  life  of  Jesus." 

1810.  CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST.  "Jesus  Christ  is  the  Son 
of  God  in  a  peculiar  sense,  the  temple  of  the  Divinity,  the 
brightest  image  of  his  glory.  In  seeing  him  we  see  the 


CHARACTER   OF    CHRIST.  299 

Father.  On  this  account  it  is  delightful  to  contemplate 
him.  It  is  delightful  to  think  that  his  mildness,  compas- 
sion, forbearance,  and  unwearied  goodness  are  beams, 
reflections,  of  the  character  of  the  universal  Father.  No 
other  manifestation  is  so  suited  to  teach  us  that  God  is  love. 

"  It  is  also  interesting  to  contemplate  Jesus  Christ,  as  in 
him  are  displayed,  in  the  brightest  forms,  all  the  virtues 
and  excellences  of  human  nature.  He,  and  he  alone,  is 
the  perfect  man,  an  unerring  standard ;  and  it  is  in  con- 
templation of  Jesus  that  we  can  best  learn  the  glory  for 
which  our  nature  is  designed,  that  we  shall  best  learn  to 
love  and  aspire  after  excellence 

"It  is  a  kind  ordination  of  God  that  the  evidence  of 
Christianity  should  be  a  growing  evidence.  When  we  begin 
our  inquiries  into  the  truth  of  Christianity,  we  are  first  im- 
pressed with  the  miraculous  works  of  Christ,  those  exertions 
of  divine  power  which  prove  that  the  Father  was  in  him, 
that  he  was  commissioned  from  heaven.  In  proportion  as 
we  attend  to  the  subject,  a  new  source  of  evidence  springs 
up  and  brings  new  conviction  to  our  minds.  In  the  moral 
character  of  Jesus  we  see  a  miracle  more  striking  than  the 
most  stupendous  work  of  a  physical  nature.  We  see  in 
brighter  and  clearer  light  the  impressions  and  evidences  of 
a  sincere,  upright,  devout,  and  most  benevolent  heart.  We 
see  a  character  most  original  and  yet  most  consistent ; 
such  as  the  Evangelists  could  never  have  feigned,  such  as 
impostors  would  never  liave  imagined,  but  which  is  exactly 
suited  to  the  wants  and  miseries  of  man,  and  to  our  highest 
conceptions  of  the  Divinity. 

"  If  from  the  contemplation  of  this  character  we  are  so 
blest  as  to  imbibe  the  spirit  of  Jesus,  our  conviction  of  his 
excellence  and  sincerity  acquires  new  vigour.  Every  attain- 
ment in  purity  and  benevolence  opens  our  minds  to  behold 
and  enjoy  yet  more  of  the  benignity  and  glory  of  the 

0  3 


300  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

Saviour.  We  feel  a  new  delight  in  studying  his  history, 
in  tracing  his  life.  We  feel  an  accordance  between  our 
best  and  purest  sentiments  and  the  conduct  and  instructions 
of  Christ,  and  we  find  these  invigorated  as  our  knowledge 
of  his  character  is  enlarged.  We  perceive  ourselves  grow- 
ing more  and  more  like  God ;  we  perceive  our  narrow  and 
sensual  hearts  expanding  with  pure  benevolence ;  we  per- 
ceive the  storms  of  passion  calmed,  and  a  serene  hope  in 
God,  and  a  patient  endurance  of  injuries  taking  possession 
of  our  souls.  We  know,  by  an  evidence  which  we  cannot 
communicate  to  any  but  Christians,  that  Jesus  is  the  Son 
of  God,  for  we  feel  ourselves  elevated  and  strengthened  by 

his  presence 

"  I  hope  I  am  not  insensible  to  the  obligations  of  virtue 
and  piety  and  benevolence,  however  displayed,  however  en- 
forced. But  never  do  I  feel  how  lovely  is  virtue — never 
do  I  feel  so  deeply  my  own  wretchedness,  unworthiness, 
and  guilt — never  do  I  so  earnestly  desire  to  subdue  my 
evil  passions,  and  to  put  on  humility  and  universal  love,  as 
when  I  behold  the  glory  of  God  in  the  face,  in  the  actions, 
in  the  words,  of  Jesus  Christ." 

1808.  THE  MAJESTIC  CLAIMS  OF  JESDS.  "  Can  we  read 
this  solemn  declaration  of  Jesus  without  wonder  and  ve- 
neration ?  We  now  see  him  in  a  situation  where  every  thing 
tended  to  depress  his  mind.  We  see  him  surrounded  by 
men  who  he  well  knew  would  ridicule  his  claims,  and  make 
them  the  foundation  of  his  ruin.  We  see  him  in  circum- 
stances in  which  ambition  and  every  earthly  interest  united 
to  oppose  the  assertion  of  this  high  character.  From'  his 
silence  we  see  that  at  this  trying  moment  he  was  perfectly 
composed,  not  agitated,  not  provoked,  not  hurried  to  im- 
prudence by  violence  of  passion,  but  capable  of  the  calmest 
anticipation  of  the  consequences  of  his  acknowledgment. 


MAJESTY   OF    CHRIST.  301 

In  this  situation,  when  the  solemnity  of  an  oath  was  im- 
posed on  him,  and  when  life  or  death  rested  on  the  words 
he  uttered,  we  hear  him  breaking  that  silence  which 
calumny  could  not  interrupt,  and  in  the  most  firm,  serious, 
and  majestic  language  claiming  the  honours  of  the  Son  of 
God,  of  the  promised  Messiah,  of  the  Saviour  of  the  world. 
We  not  only  hear  him  assenting  to  the  question,  '  Art 
thou  the  Christ  ? '  but  adding  to  his  assent  a  declaration  of 
his  glory,  which  he  must  have  known  would  have  been 
peculiarly  offensive  to  the  Jews,  and  applying  to  himself 
language  which,  under  the  old  dispensation,  had  been 
limited  to  God, — thus  expressing  his  intimate  union  with 
the  Father.  If  we  consider  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion, 
and  the  language  employed  by  Christ,  we  are  authorized  in 
saying,  that,  if  Jesus  did  not  declare  the  truth,  he  was  not 
merely  a  common  deceiver,  but  the  very  worst  of  deceivers. 
But  how  can  this  be  reconciled  with  his  whole  life  and 
doctrines  ?  and  how  could  a  man  of  such  a  character  have 
made  such  a  profession  in  circumstances  which  threatened 
nothing  but  humiliation  and  suffering  ? 

"If  we  view  Jesua,  bound  as  a  criminal  at  a  human 
tribunal,  hemmed  in  with  malignant  enemies  thirsty  for  his 
blood,  how  can  we  help  astonishment  at  the  serene,  digni- 
fied, sublime  language  in  which  he  spoke  ?  What  marks 
of  an  elevated  mind,  conscious  of  majesty,  unintimidated 
by  the  worst  forms  of  danger,  and  assured  of  triumphs  over 
all  opposers !  It  cannot  be  said  that  this  is  the  language 
of  boasting.  It  was  extorted  from  the  silent  sufferer  by  an 
oath.  He  who  had  heard  without  reply  the  accusations  of 
malice,  and  discovered  a  mind  free  from  every  discordant 
feeling,  at  length  lifted  his  eyes  to  his  judges,  and  declared, 
4  Ye  shall  hereafter  see  me  sitting  at  the  right  hand  of  God, 
and  coming  in  the  clouds  of  heaven.'" 

1808.  DIGNITY  OF  JESUS.     "  A  few  days  before,  he  had 


302  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

entered  this  city  in  triumph,  he  had  wrought  miracles  which 
extorted  admiration,  he  had  heard  the  shouts  of  a  crowd 
welcoming  him  as  the  promised  Son  of  David.  Through 
this  same  city  he  now  passed  as  a  criminal  in  bonds,  a 
silent  sufferer,  and  experienced  only  contempt  or  indiffer- 
ence. He  saw  a  fickle,  worldly  people  converted  into 
enemies,  because  he  had  refused  to  assume  the  outward 
glory  which  they  expected  in  the  Messiah.  It  is  peculiarly 
hard  to  bear  a  sudden  reverse  of  circumstances,  to  maintain 
benevolence  towards  men  who,  from  selfish  feelings,  express 
attachment,  and  then  forsake,  injure,  and  conspire  to  de- 
stroy us.  But  Jesus  wept  over  Jerusalem,  when  he  foresaw 
its  ingratitude ;  and  even  whilst  its  inhabitants  thronged 
after  him  to  extort  a  sentence  of  condemnation,  he  expressed 
no  emotions  of  disappointment  or  anger,  and  bore,  with 
equal  tranquillity,  the  malignity  of  rulers  and  the  versatility 
of  the  populace.  He  saw  how  little  effect  had  been  pro- 
duced by  his  ministry.  He  saw  his  enemies  prosecuting 
their  designs  without  any  of  the  opposition  they  had  feared. 
No  friends  appeared  to  accompany  and  defend  him.  But 
he  made  no  attempts  to  excite  anew  the  hopes  and  attach- 
ment of  the  multitude.  And  he,  who  had  so  often  ad- 
dressed them  for  their  own  salvation,  offered  not  one  appeal 

to  secure  himself. 

"  Pilate  marvelled  greatly.  He  had  been  accustomed  to 
observe  in  prisoners  a  disposition  to  clear  themselves  from 
such  aggravated  charges.  He  saw  how  easily  these  accu- 
sations might  be  repelled ;  he  was  astonished  at  the  com- 
posed, unbroken  silence  of  the  accused.  This  silence  of 
Jesus  expresses  great  dignity  and  conscious  innocence.  He 
knew  that  the  occasion  required  no  defence.  A  Pioman 
governor,  residing  in  the  narrow  province  of  Judea,  needed 
not  to  be  told  that  no  insurrection  had  been  stii'red  up 
within  his  jurisdiction.  Pilate  must  have  been  too  well 
acquainted  with  the  affairs  of  Judea,  to  need  that  Jesus 


MAJESTY    OF    CHRIST.  303 

should  declare  that  he  had  forbidden  none  to  pay  tribute  to 
Caesar.  Pilate  must  have  known  the  Jewish  people  too 
well  to  believe  that  they  would  ever  have  accused  a  man 
who  really  aimed  to  break  the  Roman  yoke  from  their 
necks.  It  was  not  necessary  that  he  should  speak  in  order 
to  prevent  misconception  in  his  judge  ;  and  he  was  there- 
fore silent.  In  this  position  of  Jesus,  in  this  declining  to 
use  any  means  with  the  governor  or  populace  for  his  safety, 
we  see  the  evidences  of  a  mind  submissive  to  God,  superior 
to  fear,  undisturbed  by  passion,  and  persuaded  that  its 
sufferings  were  instrumental  to  some  important  end.  This 
conduct  of  Christ,  especially  if  we  consider  the  friendly 
sentiments  of  Pilate,  was  inconsistent  with  all  the  views 

and  motives  which  influence  selfish  men 

"  In  these  words  we  see  the  majesty  and  fearless  com- 
posure of  Jesus.  '  I  cannot  and  will  not  deny  that  I  am  a 
king.  It  is  my  great  office  to  declare  the  truth ;  it  is  by 
the  influence  of  truth  that  I  am  to  reign  in  the  hearts  of 
men ;  and  I  cannot  shrink  from  asserting  this  most  im- 
portant truth,  that  I  have  the  power  and  authority  of  a 
sovereign  at  once  to  rule  and  to  defend  my  people.  Let 
not  this  doctrine  offend.  Every  one  who  is  of  the  truth, 
who  loves  the  light,  and  whose  mind  is  open  to  conviction, 
heareth  and  acknowledged  this  and  all  my  doctrines.' 
These  words,  spoken  at  so  interesting  and  trying  a  period, 
discover  to  us  the  elevation  of  our  Saviour  in  a  very  striking 
light.  We  see  his  mind  unbroken  by  suffering.  We  see 
in  him  the  firmest  adherence  to  the  doctrines  he  had  for- 
merly taught.  We  see  in  him  a  conscious  dignity,  a  full 
conviction  of  the  glory  and  power  with  which  he  was  in- 
vested. He  asserts  his  royal  office,  not  from  ostentation, 
net  amidst  a  host  of  flatterers,  but  in  the  face  of  enemies ; 
and  when  he  made  this  solemn  declaration,  his  appearance 
bore  little  conformity,  indeed,  to  the  splendour  of  earthly 
monarchs." 


304  SPIRITUAL  GROWTH. 

1812.  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS  CHRIST  ILLUSTRATED  IN  HIS 
LAST  PRAYER.  "  Observe  in  this  prayer  the  self-possession 
of  Jesus.  Does  the  thought  of  his  danger  overwhelm  him? 
He  hardly  seems  to  recur  to  it.  His  allusions  to  his  death 
are  only  slight  and  distant,  as  if  he  feared  to  wound  the 
tender  and  fearful  minds  of  his  disciples.  '  Father,  I  come 
to  thee.  I  am  now  to  offer  myself.  I  am  no  more  in  the 
world.'  Such  is  the  language  in  which  he  clothes  the 
solemn  event  which  was  so  near.  Instead  of  being  absorbed 
by  his  approaching  sufferings,  instead  of  indulging  in 
depressing  complaints,  instead  of  appealing  to  the  sympathy 
of  those  around  him,  we  see  his  mind  opening  itself  to  the 
noblest  views  and  sentiments,  exerting  itself  with  clearness 
and  freedom,  raising  itself  to  God  and  heaven,  and  looking 
forward  to  distant  ages.  What  marks  of  a  pure  and 
exalted  spirit  are  here  unfolded  to  us !  .... 

"  Observe  next  the  filial  trust  which  breathes  through 
this  prayer.  Jesus  had  called  himself  the  Son  of  God  in 
language  which  had  offended  the  Jews ;  but  in  the  prospect 
of  danger  and  death  he  still  claims  the  same  high  relation. 
We  see  not  a  trace  of  that  apprehension  which  must  have 
oppressed  a  mind  conscious  of  having  urged  unauthorized 
claims  to  a  mission  from  heaven.  Hear  his  first  words : — 
'  Father,  glorify  thy  Son  ! '  Can  you  read  this  prayer,  and 
not  see  in  every  line  the  marks  of  filial  trust  ? 

"  Observe  next  the  temper  with  which  Jesus  reviews  his 
life.  It  is  natural  at  the  approach  of  death  to  look  back. 
To  a  guilty  mind  the  past  is  gloomy  and  appalling.  To  a 
holy  mind  it  imparts  a  serene  satisfaction  and  hope.  What 
feelings  did  it  awaken  in  Jesus?  Hear  his  language: — 
'  Father,  I  have  finished  the  work  which  thou  gavest  me  to 
do.  I  have  glorified  thee  on  the  earth.'  What  a  mild,  yet 
triumphant,  consciousness  of  a  holy  life  ! 

"  Observe,  next,  the  majesty  which  is  expressed  in  every 
part  of  this  prayer.  In  what  sublime  language  does  Jesus 


LAST   PRAYER   OF    CHRIST.  305 

every  where  speak  of  himself !  Through  his  whole  minis- 
try, he  liad  claimed  the  most  exalted  character  and  titles  ; 
and  is  he  prepared  to  abandon  these,  now  that  they  have 
roused  the  malice  of  the  world  ? 

"  From  whom  do  these  lofty  words  proceed  ?  From 
Jesus,  distinguished  as  he  was  in  manner  by  meekness  and 
humility;  from  Jesus,  poor,  friendless,  and  persecuted; 
from  Jesus,  ready  to  sink  under  the  bloody  cruelty  of  his 
enemies.  What  a  singular  union  of  lowliness  and  majesty ! 
With  what  admiration  ought  we  to  contemplate  that  spirit, 
which,  in  circumstances  so  depressed,  is  yet  in  its  claims 
and  hopes  so  exalted,  so  unsubdued !  The  character  which 
Jesus  here  assumes  of  Lord  and  Sovereign  of  the  whole 
human  race,  appointed  by  God  to  recover  the  world  to 
piety,  and  to  give  eternal  life  to  his  obedient  disciples,  is 
one  which  never  before  had  entered  human  imagination  ;  it 
is  a  character  more  august  and  sublime  than  was  ever 
before  assumed.  But  this  character  we  find  the  humble 
and  devout  Jesus  mildly  claiming,  in  solemn  prayer,  at  the 
approach  of  death.  Although  every  event  conspires  to 
throw  depression  on  his  spirits  and  gloom  over  his  prospects, 
although  contempt  and  infamy  threaten  to  overwhelm  his 
name,  his  spirit  is  unbroken,  his  language  is  unchanged ; 
he  even  speaks  of  the  dignity  of  his  character  with  new 
solemnity  and  elevation  of  style.  What  testimony  is  here 
given  to  his  sincerity  and  greatness !  Will  any  say  that 
this  is  the  language  of  enthusiasm  ?  Read  again  this 
prayer;  observe  the  calmness  which  pervades  it.  You  see 
no  transports,  no  raptures.  A  devout,  benevolent,  and  mild 
spirit  breathes  through  this  whole  act  of  piety;  and,  elevated 
as  are  his  claims,  you  still  see  an  all-pervading  humility 
and  reverence 

"  Let  me  next  ask  you  to  consider  the  benevolence  of 
Jesus  as  it  breaks  forth  in  this  prayer.  In  this  view,  I 
consider  this  act  of  devotion  as  peculiarly  worthy  of  regard. 


306  SPIRITUAL   GROWTH. 

It  is  a  delightful  testimony  to  the  benignity  and  amiable- 
ness  of  his  character.  You  will  remember  that  he  was  in  a 
few  hours  to  die  in  the  most  ignominious  manner  by  the 
hands  of  men.  The  murderous  crowd  were  even  now 
collecting,  and  thirsting  for  his  blood.  But  not  one  mark 
of  an  inflamed  or  irritated  mind  can  be  found  in  his  prayer. 
You  hear  no  imprecation  on  his  enemies.  He  delights  to 
speak  of  himself  as  sent  to  give  eternal  life  to  men ;  and  he 
desires  to  be  exalted,  that  he  may  communicate  to  the 
whole  world  the  knowledge  of  God.  The  universal  bene- 
volence which  this  prayer  expresses  has  been  obscured  by 
an  unhappy  misinterpretation  of  a  particular  passage. 
Jesus,  in  praying  for  his  disciples,  says,  '  I  pray  not  for  the 

world,  but  for  them  whom  thou  hast  given  me.' 

"  The  meaning  of  this  passage  is  very  obvious.  He  was 
now  commending  his  chosen  disciples  to  the  particular  care 
and  blessing  of  God  ;  and  to  enforce  his  request,  he  says, 
'  I  pray  not,  I  am  not  praying,  for  the  world,  for  men  who 
disregard  thee,  but  for  men  devoted  to  thy  service,  and  on 
these  I  hope  thy  peculiar  blessing.'  That  he  did  not  mean 
to  exclude  the  world  from  his  intercession  is  very  obvious 
from  his  whole  language  on  the  present  occasion.  For 
instance,  why  is  he  so  earnest  in  praying  that  his  disciples 
may  be  one,  or  perfectly  united?  He  desires  this,  to  use 
his  own  words,  '  that  the  world  may  believe  that  thou  hast 
sent  me.'  The  reformation  of  the  world  is,  in  fact,  the 
great  object  which  fills  the  mind  of  Jesus  through  this 
whole  prayer.  He  indeed  prayed  particularly  for  his  dis- 
ciples. But,  observe,  he  prayed  for  them  as  preachers  of 
his  religion  to  the  world.  He  regarded  them,  not  in  their 
individual,  but  in  their  public  character.  '  As  thou  hast 
sent  me  into  the  world,  so  have  I  sent  them  into  the 
world.'  His  great  desire  and  prayer  was,  that  these  men, 
to  whom  his  religion  was  to  be  confided,  should  fulfil  their 
high  trust,  and  by  their  lives  and  preaching  fill  the  world 


TENDERNESS    OF    CHRIST.  307 

with  his  truth.  The  prospect  of  suffering  could  not  drive 
from  his  mind  a  benevolent  concern  for  the  improvement 
and  salvation  of  our  race.  Future  ages  crowded  on  his 
mind.  Though  insulted,  dishonoured,  he  thought  only  of 
enlightening  and  saving  mankind.  How  ardent,  sublime, 
and  pure  is  this  benevolence  !  You  see  him  on  the  brink 
of  suffering,  but  still  forgetting  himself,  and  extending  his 
solicitude  over  the  whole  human  race. 

"  But  do  not  stop  with  observing  Christ's  universal  be- 
nevolence. Observe,  particularly,  his  tenderness  towards 
his  disciples.  Do  you  here  see  any  marks  of  a  leader  who 
has  drawn  after  him  followers  only  to  swell  his  train,  and 
to  promote  his  triumphs '?  Is  his  regard  withdrawn  from 
them  by  the  approach  of  personal  evil  ?  No.  Never  was 
Jesus  more  affectionate,  more  alive  to  their  feelings  and 
interests.  In  their  hearing  he  offers  up  a  fervent  prayer, 
and  commends  them  to  God.  On  former  occasions  he  had 
reproved  them,  but  now  no  complaint  escapes  his  lips,  no 
allusion  to  their  imperfections.  On  the  contrary,  he  speaks 
with  satisfaction  of  their  virtues.  '  They  have  kept  thy 
word;'  'they  are  thine,  they  are  not  of  the  world.'  How 
soothing  this  approbation  of  a  dying  friend !  This  plea- 
sure Jesus  in  death  wished  to  leave  to  his  mourning  dis- 
ciples  

"  Let  me  close  my  remarks  on  the  character  of  Jesus,  as 
expressed  in  this  prayer,  by  desiring  you  to  observe  the 
strong,  unsubdued  hope,  which  he  every  where  expresses,  of 
the  future  triumphs  of  his  religion.  He  was  surrounded 
by  a  few  trembling  disciples,  from  whom  he  was  soon  to  be 
severed,  and  who  were  to  encounter  the  opposition  of  the 
world ;  but  we  hear  no  despondence,  no  doubts,  no  relin- 
quishment  of  his  great  object.  On  the  contrary,  we  see 
him  anticipating  a  state  of  glory,  in  which  he  should  extend 
the  knowledge  of  God  throughout  the  world ;  we  hear  him 
speaking  with  confidence  of  those  who  should  believe  on 


308  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

him  in  future  ages,  and  praying  for  the  conversion  of  all 
mankind.  This  energy  of  hope,  in  circumstances  so  de- 
pressing, marks  a  mind  of  great  elevation.  There  is  some- 
thing unspeakably  sublime  in  the  spirit  of  Jesus,  sinking 
as  he  was  into  the  grave,  and  yet  looking  forward  with  a 
serene,  unshaken  confidence  to  the  triumphs  of  his  religion 
in  all  succeeding  time.  Whence  this  hope,  and  whence  its 
accomplishment  ?  " 

1812.  SINCERITY  OF  JESUS,  AS  ILLUSTEATED  IN  HIS  DEATH. 
"  Let  me  first  ask  you,  my  friends,  to  observe  the  testi- 
mony which  the  last  actions  and  words  of  Jesus  bear  to  his 
mission  from  heaven,  to  the  truth  of  his  claims,  to  the 
Divine  origin  of  his  religion.  How  irreconcilable  with 
deceit  is  the  prayer  with  which  he  resigns  his  spirit,  and 
how  expressive  is  it  of  a  heart  conscious  of  its  innocence — 
how  accordant  with  the  character  of  the  Son  of  God! 
Jesus  was  at  this  moment  exhausted  by  acute  sufferings, 
which  he  felt  were  immediately  to  end  in  death.  His 
enemies  were  surrounding  him  in  triumph,  exulting  over 
him  as  a  fallen  impostor.  Had  he  been  what  his  enemies 
believed,  can  you  imagine  a  condition  more  wretched,  more 
suited  to  crush  his  fainting  spirit  ?  Scourged,  mocked  at, 
branded  as  a  malefactor,  driven  from  life  with  execration, 
he  must  have  abandoned  every  hope  from  this  world  ;  and 
had  the  aspersions  of  his  enemies  been  true,  what  could  he 
have  hoped  in  the  future  world  ?  It  is  with  pain  that  I 
make  even  this  supposition.  Had  it  been  true,  how  full  of 
horrors,  how  peculiarly  destitute  of  comfort  and  hope, 
must  have  been  his  death  on  the  cross !  But  do  we  see  in 
Jesus  one  mark  of  a  mind  conscious  of  having  spoken  with- 
out authority  in  the  name  of  God  ?  Does  he  mourn  over  his 
blasted  hopes,  his  disappointed  schemes  ?  Do  we  discover 
fear,  despondence?  Does  he  speak  like  one  who  was 
ready  to  be  torn  from  every  object  for  which  he  had  lived ; 


CLAIMS    OF    CHRIST.  309 

like  one  who  felt  in  suffering  a  just  reward  for  crime  ? 
Hear  the  last  words  which  break  from  his  dying  lips : — 
'  Father,  into  thy  hands  I  commit  my  spirit.'  Is  this  the 
language  of  defeated  imposture  ;  or  is  it  that  of  the  Son  of 
God  returning  to  his  Father  ? 

"With  what  unconquerable  firmness  Jesus  adhered  to 
his  claims  !  Through  all  his  sufferings — sufferings  which 
combined  every  circumstance  to  shake  his  resolute  soul — 
sufferings  which  he  did  nothing  to  avert  and  nothing  to 
mitigate — he  held  fast  to  the  profession,  that  he  was  the 
Son  of  God ;  and  his  last  breath  bore  this  claim  to  heaven. 
Whence  this  firmness,  when  nothing  but  death  was  its 
reward  ?  whence  could  it  have  originated,  but  in  the  con- 
sciousness of  truth  ? 

"  It  deserves  to  be  remarked,  that  this  assertion  of  his 
claims  was  addressed  by  Jesus,  not  to  the  multitude,  but 
to  God  himself.  It  was  in  prayer  that  he  bore  his  dying 
testimony  to  his  union  with  the  Father ;  and  if  this  testi- 
mony was  not  true,  can  you  conceive  of  impiety  more 
aggravated  than  that  with  which  the  life  of  Jesus  was 
closed  ?  And  this  awful  impiety  had  no  motive  ; — and  it 
closed  a  life  of  unspotted  purity !  Who  for  a  moment  can 
admit  the  thought? 

"What  mark  of  deranged  imagination  do  we  discover? 
With  what  patience,  composure,  serenity,  does  he  suffer  ! 
You  hear  no  bursts  of  passion,  no  extravagance  of  language ; 
and  if  you  listen  to  his  last  prayer,  what  a  mild,  tranquil 
confidence  does  it  express  !  Here  is  no  boasting,  rapture, 
transport.  We  see  a  gentle  spirit  resigning  itself  to  its 
Father: — 'Father,  into  thy  hands  I  commit  my  spirit.' 
There  is  a  sublime  composure  in  this  death  of  Jesus, 
which  I  feel,  but  I  cannot  express.  This  is  indeed  the 
Son  of  God 

"  He  is  as  great  in  death,  as  when  his  word  revived  the 
dead ;  as  great  as  when  multitudes  hung  in  silent  attention 


310  SPIRITUAL   GROWTH. 

on  his  lips.  Approach  and  see.  His  body  is  indeed  dis- 
figured, lacerated,  stained  with  blood.  But  in  that  coun- 
tenance, lifted  up  to  heaven,  what  mild  confidence  beams 
forth !  You  see  him  anticipating  immediate  death.  But 
death  has  no  terrors.  Death  brings  no  agitation.  In  death 
he  sees  only  the  ascent  of  his  spirit  to  his  Father.  What 
conscious  uprightness,  what  firmness,  what  elevation  of 
character,  does  this  scene  discover !  Jesus  has  suffered — 
drank  deeply  of  suffering.  But  his  spirit  is  unbroken  ;  his 
mind  is  clear  and  collected ;  his  heart  is  warm  and  active  ; 
it  retains  its  hold  on  God." 

1810.  THE  UNIVERSALITY  OF  CHRISTIANITY  A  PROOF  OF 
ITS  DIVINE  ORIGIN.  "  I  wish  at  this  time  to  call  your  at- 
tention to  the  extent  of  the  influence  which  Jesus  ascribes 
to  himself  in  the  text : — '  I  am  the  light  of  the  world.' 

"  He  here  represents  himself  as  sent  to  diffuse  his  lustre 
through  all  the  regions  of  the  earth,  to  introduce  a  religion 
for  the  whole  human  race,  to  improve  the  human  character 
in  every  nation  under  heaven,  to  be  a  universal  benefactor, 
to  guide  the  steps  of  all  men,  however  widely  dispersed,  to 
a  better  world 

"  From  the  whole  tenor  of  the  New  Testament,  we  learn 
that  Jesus  Christ  claimed  to  himself  the  high  character  of 
the  guide,  instructor,  and  Lord  of  the  whole  human  family. 
He  declared  himself  commissioned  to  diffuse  most  salutary 
doctrines  through  the  earth,  to  bring  all  nations  to  one 
faith,  to  introduce  a  new  worship  in  the  place  of  the  various 
systems  which  divided  mankind,  to  unite  the  discordant 
world  under  himself  as  a  common  head 

"  It  is,  I  think,  an  undisputed  fact,  that,  before  the  time 
of  Jesus  Christ,  no  man  had  ever  appeared  who  professed 
himself  authorized  by  the  universal  Father  to  proclaim  one 
religion  to  all  mankind.  The  character  of  a  Divine  in- 
structor of  the  whole  world  had  never  before  been  assumed. 


CHARACTER   OF    CHRIST.  311 

There  had,  indeed,  been  many  who  pretended  to  communi- 
cations from  God.  Such  were  most  of  the  ancient  legis- 
lators. But  they  claimed  only  the  commission  to  instruct 
the  particular  nation  to  which  they  were  sent.  Even  Moses 
and  the  prophets  were  limited  to  one  people.  The  plan  of 
bringing  all  men  to  the  belief  and  practice  of  one  religion 
was  never  contemplated.  No  mind  had  formed  so  bold  an 
attempt.  The  object  was  so  little  suited  to  their  selfish 
principles  of  action,  and  presented  such  insuperable  diffi- 
culties, that  it  does  not  appear  ever  to  have  occupied  the 
thoughts  of  an  individual.  Before  the  time  of  Christ  there 
had  been  great  conquerors,  who  had  cherished,  and  almost 
accomplished,  the  scheme  of  universal  dominion ;  but  they 
were  satisfied  with  a  dominion  over  the  bodies  and  outward 
actions  of  men.  They  aspired  not  to  subdue  their  minds. 
They  overturned  governments,  but  left  religion  untouched. 
It  is  an  argument  in  favour  of  Jesus  Christ,  that  he  ap- 
peared in  a  character  altogether  new.  His  plan  of  pro- 
ducing a  change  in  the  religion  of  the  world  was  wholly  his 
own.  May  we  not  argue,  that,  if  he  had  acted  on  merely 
human  principles,  he  would  have  resembled  those  who 
went  before  him  ?  Human  nature  is  the  same  in  all  ages. 
There  is  a  peculiarity  in  the  character  of  Christ,  an  origi- 
nality in  his  purpose,  a  remoteness  from  the  common  views 
of  men,  a  superiority  in  his  objects  to  the  greatest  men  who 
had  appeared  before  him,  which  we  cannot  easily  explain 
but  on  the  supposition  of  his  divine  commission.  This 
great  design  suits  the  Son  of  God,  but  cannot  easily  be 

reconciled  with  another  character 

"  That  a  Jew  should  devote  himself  to  the  work  of  bring- 
ing the  world  to  a  participation  of  the  same  religion,  and 
this  a  new  religion  too,  was  indeed  wonderful.  There 
never  was  a  people  among  whom  so  strong  a  national  spirit 
existed  as  among  the  Jews ;  and  their  national  pride  was 
peculiarly  built  on  this  idea,  that  they  had  been,  and  ever 


312  SPIRITUAL   GROWTH. 

should  be,  distinguished  by  their  religious  privileges  from 
the  rest  of  mankind.  The  idea  of  a  religion,  which  should 
be  the  common  and  equal  property  and  blessing  of  all 
nations,  was  the  last  idea  which  would  have  entered  the 
mind  of  a  Jew.  Judea  was  the  most  unlikely  place  for  the 
growth  of  so  liberal  a  sentiment,  so  diffusive  a  system. 

"  Let  me  point  out  some  of  those  features  of  the  gospel 
which  fit  it  for  being  a  universal  religion.  The  represent- 
ations of  God,  given  by  Jesus  Christ,  are  fitted  to  draw  to 
him  the  hearts  and  hopes  of  all  human  beings.  Under  all 
other  religions,  the  Divinity  was  represented  as  sustaining 
a  peculiar  relation  to  the  particular  nation  for  which  the 
religion  was  designed 

"  But  Jesus  represented  him  as  the  Father  of  all,  as 
having  no  regard  to  outward  distinctions,  as  the  G  od  of  Jew 
and  Gentile,  as  looking  with  a  father's  compassion  on  those 
nations  who  had  wandered  from  him,  and  as  extending  his 
arms  to  receive  them.  In  the  gospel,  the  paternal  cha- 
racter of  God  is  continually  brought  to  view.  '  Our  Father,' 
is  the  language  in  which  we  are  to  address  him ;  and  all 
men  are  invited  to  approach  in  the  character  of  children. 
This  is  at  once  a  very  tender  and  a  veiy  noble  sentiment. 
We,  indeed,  are  so  accustomed  to  it,  that  we  see  nothing 
singular  in  that  religion  which  enforces  it.  But  we  should 
go  back  to  the  age  of  Christ.  We  should  remember  the 
blindness  of  the  idolater,  and  the  narrow  feelings  of  the 
Jew ;  and  then  we  shall  be  struck  with  the  elevated  and 
enlarged  mind  of  Jesus  Christ,  who  so  clearly  taught  that 
God  is  no  respecter  of  persons,  that  he  is  the  God  and 
Father  of  all  men,  and  that  before  his  throne  all  nations 
may  bow  and  find  equal  acceptance 

"  Again,  another  feature  of  the  gospel  which  renders  it 
fit  to  be  a  universal  religion  is  this.  The  worship  it  pre- 
scribes is  remarkably  free  from  forms,  rules,  ceremonies, 
and  thus  it  is  adapted  to  all  climates,  all  modes  of  life,  all 


UNIVERSALITY    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  313 

states  of  society,  and  other  circumstances  under  which  men 
are  placed 

"  It  is  very  remarkable,  that  when  he  was  brought  up 
and  living  amidst  the  pomp,  and  show,  and  forms,  and 
bigotry  of  the  Jews,  he  should  yet  teach  a  religion  in  which 
the  whole  stress  is  laid  upon  sentiments,  dispositions,  and 
principles,  which  give  to  forms  all  their  value  ;  in  which  the 
worship  of  God  in  spirit  and  in  truth  is  declared  to  be  the 
only  acceptable  worship,  and  in  which  nothing  of  the  out- 
ward religion  and  burdensome  ritual  of  his  time  is  to  be 
found ;  in  which  are  enjoined  only  two  positive  institutions, 
so  simple  and  so  expressive  that  they  may  be  observed  by 
all  men  of  all  nations  with  equal  ease  and  with  constant 
improvement.  Does  not  this  purity,  this  simplicity,  this 
spirituality  of  the  gospel  substantiate  the  claim  of  Jesus, 
that  he  came  indeed  from  God,  to  be  the  light  of  all  man- 
kind?   

"  Let  me  conclude  this  branch  of  the  subject  with  direct- 
ing you  to  another  feature  of  the  gospel  which  fits  it  to  be 
a  universal  religion.  It  is  a  plain,  perspicuous  religion, 
and  suited  to  the  comprehension  and  wants  of  all  classes  of 
society.  A  universal  religion  ought  to  have,  if  I  may  so 
speak,  the  clearness,  brightness,  of  the  sun,  and  to  diffuse 
its  beams  of  truth  and  consolation  on  high  and  low,  rich 
and  poor — on  all  the  varieties  of  the  social  state.  This  is 
eminently  the  character  of  the  gospel,  and  distinguishes  it 
from  all  other  religions.  Jesus  Christ,  whilst  he  claimed 
the  highest  title,  yet  descended  in  a  sense  to  the  level  of 
the  humblest  of  mankind.  He  dispensed  his  religion  in 
familiar  language,  in  striking  and  easy  comparisons,  in 
affecting  narratives,  and  in  brief  and  comprehensive  pre- 
cepts. He  did  not,  like  the  ancient  teachers,  affect  a 
distance  from  the  multitude,  and  reserve  his  mysteries, 
incomprehensible  by  vulgar  minds,  for  select  disciples.  He 
addressed  all  men  with  one  voice,  with  the  same  doctrines, 


314  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

promises,  and  admonition ;  and,  what  is  remarkable,  whilst 
he  instructed  the  ignorant,  he  yet  presented  to  the  refined 
and  intelligent  more  sublime  and  interesting  truths  than 
they  had  ever  conceived  before.  He  was  simple  and 
familiar,  but  in  reading  his  discourses  we  discover  a  majesty 
in  his  simplicity,  an  authority  mingled  with  his  con- 
descension. He  taught  as  one  who  came  to  instruct  the 
race,  for  he  spoke  on  subjects  which  come  home  to  every 
man's  breast.  He  did  not  adapt  himself  to  the  circum- 
stances of  any  particular  age,  or  nation,  or  rank.  He  spoke 
of  that  God  on  whom  all  men  depend,  of  that  obedience 
and  love  which  all  men  owe,  of  those  sorrows  which  pierce 
eveiy  heart,  of  that  sin  which  burdens  every  conscience,  of 
that  death  which  terminates  every  mere  earthly  prospect, 
and  of  that  futurity  to  which  the  eyes  of  all  nations  have 
ever  turned  with  inquiring  anxiety.  This  is  the  excellence 
of  the  gospel,  that  it  is  fitted  for  the  many,  for  the  mass  of 
mankind,  in  every  age  and  every  nation.  It  does  not  treat 
of  local  or  temporary  interests.  It  warns  of  danger  to 
which  all  are  exposed,  enjoins  virtues  which  all  may  prac- 
tise, and  offers  consolation  which  all  at  some  seasons  need. 
Its  spirit,  which  is  universal  love  and  benevolence,  is  fitted 
for  all  climes,  for  all  classes.  It  makes  the  true  dignity  of 
man  in  every  condition  ;  it  forms  the  happiness  of  families 
and  communities ;  and  it  is  the  best  preparation  for  happi- 
ness in  heaven.  Surely  a  religion  so  suited  to  the  whole 
human  race  is  worthy  the  universal  Father.  And  when  we 
consider  the  circumstances  of  him  who  proclaimed  it,  and 
the  darkness,  narrowness,  and  corruption  of  the  age  in 
which  he  lived,  have  we  not  conclusive  proof  that  he  came 
from  God,  that  the  end  for  which  he  was  sent  will  be  ac- 
complished, that  he  will  yet  be  the  light  of  the  world  in 
the  most  extensive  sense  of  the  words,  and  that  his  truth, 
designed  for  all  nations,  will  finally  be  extended  to  all  the 
regions  of  the  earth  ? 


PROGRESS    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  315 

"  Before  this  sun  of  righteousness  the  mists  of  error, 
superstition,  idolatry  will  melt  away ;  all  nations  receiving 
one  pure  faith  will  be  reduced  to  peace.  The  predicted 
time,  when  the  lion  and  lamb  shall  lie  down  together,  will 
come ;  from  an  enlightened  and  a  united  world  one  offer- 
ing will  ascend  to  the  common  Father  and  Redeemer. 
These  are  prospects  which  almost  overpower  belief  by  their 
vastness  and  their  happiness.  But  God  has  sent  his  Son 
to  be  the  light  of  the  world ;  and  causes  are  in  operation 
sufficiently  powerful  to  produce  these  desired  effects.  The 
diffusion  of  Christianity  through  so  many  nations,  amidst 
so  many  difficulties  in  the  past,  is  a  pledge  of  its  future 
progress.  This  religion  is  now  the  religion  of  the  civilized 
world,  of  the  most  improved  nations,  of  nations  who  are 
extending  themselves  through  the  earth,  and  who,  accord- 
ing to  all  human  probability,  must  acquire  a  decided  in- 
fluence over  all  other  countries.  Here,  then,  is  a  rock  and 
foundation  of  hope  to  the  good  man  amidst  the  fluctuations 
of  the  world.  The  cause  of  truth,  holiness,  and  human 
improvement  is  the  cause  of  God  himself." 

1811.  CHRIST'S  RELATIONS  TO  THE  RACE.  "The  exalted 
state  of  our  Saviour  is  a  subject  on  which  the  Scriptures 
often  dwell,  although  it  is  necessarily  attended  with  a  de- 
gree of  obscurity.  The  manner  in  which  he  now  exists 
can  very  faintly  be  conceived  by  us.  Our  experience  is 
limited  to  this  world.  Jesus  is  the  inhabitant  of  heaven ; 
he  has  entered  on  an  immortal  life,  and  is  clothed  with 
power  such  as  is  unknown  amongst  men — a  power  felt 
through  heaven  and  earth — a  power  which  is  one  day  to 
be  displayed  in  the  most  wonderful  effects 

"  That  God  has  invested  his  Son  with  authority  over  the 
whole  human  race,  to  accomplish  the  most  benevolent  ends, 
is  not  to  be  wondered  at  as  something  unprecedented,  and 
unlike  every  thing  we  see  in  the  course  of  providence. 

VOL.    I.  P 


316  SPIRITUAL   GKOWTH. 

This  relation  of  Jesus  Christ  to  the  human  race  is  not 
altogether  without  example.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  God's 
common  method  to  connect  one  being  with  others  for  the 
sake  of  imparting  to  them  the  blessings  we  need.  All  the 
good  which  we  have  received  has  flowed  to  us,  not  imme- 
diately from  the  Father,  but  from  other  beings,  who  have 
received  power,  authority,  wisdom,  and  love  from  God,  that 
they  might  be  sources  of  good  to  us  and  all  around  us 

"  It  may  be  objected  to  the  views  which  have  now  been 
given  as  to  the  power  to  which  Christ  is  exalted  for  human 
salvation,  that  we  do  not  see  such  sensible  effects  as  might 
be  expected  from  this  universal  sovereign.  To  this  I  answer, 
that  a  being  so  far  exalted  above  us  must  have  innumer 
able  modes  of  operation  which  we  cannot  disceni  or  compre- 
hend. His  agency  may  continually  be  mingled  with 
human  events,  and  yet  we  not  discern  it.  No  being  acts, 
if  I  may  use  the  words,  with  so  much  silence  and  secrecy 
as  the  Infinite  Father.  He  is  ever  present,  and  ever 
operating,  and  yet  we  see  him  not,  we  hear  him  not ;  and 
his  Son  Jesus  Christ,  who  is  the  image  of  his  power  as  well 
as  of  all  his  perfections,  may  act  in  the  same  unseen,  yet 
efficacious,  manner.  The  narrowness  of  our  vision  is  suffi- 
cient to  account  for  our  not  distinguishing  more  sensibly 
the  operation  of  Jesus  Christ  in  human  affairs 

"The  agency  of  Christ  is  at  present  silent  and  con- 
cealed ;  but  the  time  is  approaching  when  the  veil  which 
conceals  our  Lord  will  be  removed,  when  he  will  be  re- 
vealed, with  the  angels  who  now  obey  him,  in  the  glory  of 
the  Father,  when  his  power  will  be  felt  through  the  regions 
of  the  dead,  when  all  who  have  lived  will  receive  new  life 
at  his  hands,  and  when  all  will  surround  his  judgment- 
seat.  Then  will  be  seen,  and  felt,  and  acknowledged  by 
all,  the  exalted  authority  of  Jesus  Christ 

"  At  that  day,  men  will  be  as  angels,  and  will  be  asso- 
ciated in  a  measure  with  angels ;  and  then  will  be  under- 


THE    CHURCH    OF    CHRIST.  317 

stood  that  striking  language  of  Paul,  that  it  is  the  purpose 
of  God  to  'gather  together  in  one  all  things  in  Christ.'  " 

1811.  CHRIST'S  RELATIONS  TO  THE  CHURCH.  "By  his 
Church  our  Saviour  does  not  mean  a  party,  bearing  the 
name  of  a  human  leader,  distinguished  by  a  form  or  an 
opinion,  and,  on  the  ground  of  this  distinction,  denying  the 
name  or  character  of  Christians  to  all  but  themselves.  He 
means  by  it  the  body  of  his  friends  and  followers,  ii'ho  truly 
imbibe  his  spirit,  no  matter  by  what  name  they  are  called, 
in  what  house  they  worship,  by  what  peculiarities  of  mode 
and  opinion  they  are  distinguished,  under  what  sky  they 
live,  or  what  language  they  speak.  These  are  the 
true  church — men  made  better,  made  holy,  virtuous,  by 
his  religion — men  who,  hoping  in  his  promises,  keep  his 
commands. 

"  Ever  since  Christ's  unity  was  established,  such  a  church 
has  existed,  such  characters  have  been  formed  by  the  gos- 
pel ;  and  this  influence  it  will  exert  through  all  ages.  As 
we  have  said,  we  have  reason  to  suppose,  from  what  has 
been  experienced,  that  great  changes  will  take  place  in  the 
present  state  of  Christianity;  and  the  time  is  perhaps 
coming,  when  all  our  present  sects  will  live  only  in  history. 
But  the  influences  of  the  gospel  will  not  therefore  cease ; 
the  church  will  not  die  with  the  sects  into  which  it  is 
broken.  On  the  contrary,  we  may  hope  that  the  vine  of 
God  will  flourish  more,  when  these  branches  are  lopped  off 
which  exhaust  its  strength  and  bear  little  fruit.  Men  will 
then  learn  that  Christianity  is  designed  for  practice,  and 
not  for  contention ;  ceasing  to  censure  others,  they  will  aim 
to  reform  themselves.  The  simple  gospel,  divested  of 
human  addition,  no  longer  disfigured  by  absurd  explanation, 
will  be  the  centre  and  bond  of  union  to  the  world.  The 
name  of  Christian  will  absorb  all  other  names ;  and  the 
spirit  of  love  to  God  and  man  will  take  the  place  of  un- 

P  2 


318  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

hallowed  zeal  and  bitter  contention.  Human  churches, 
human  establishments— the  effects  and  monuments  of  folly 
and  ambition — will  fall.  But  the  church  of  Christ — 
which  is  another  name  for  piety,  goodness,  righteousness, 
peace,  and  love — shall  endure  for  ever 

"  The  recovery  of  men  to  holiness,  by  the  diffusion  of  a 
holy  doctrine,  was  not  one  of  the  inferior  objects  of  Christ's 
mission,  not  an  accidental  end,  which  may  fail,  and  yet  his 
great  purpose  be  accomplished.  This  was  the  central  work 
which  brought  him  into  the  world.  Forsaking  all  other 
ends,  he  lived  for  this — to  unfold,  and  confirm,  and  enforce 
a  religion  which  should  fill  the  whole  earth  and  subsist  to 
the  end  of  time 

"  It  is  a  delightful  and  elevating  thought,  that  the  Son 
of  God,  of  whom  the  Scriptures  speak  in  such  magnificent 
language,  has  this  peculiar  interest  in  the  sanctification  and 
recovery  of  our  race ;  that,  after  living  to  teach,  and  dying 
to  confirm,  his  truth,  he  is  now  clothed  with  majesty  and 
might,  to  extend  it  through  the  earth.  Can  that  cause  fail 
which  has  this  advocate  in  heaven  ;  that  kingdom  be  over- 
thrown which  this  immortal  and  almighty  Sovereign  watches 
with  a  constant  care?  We  must  never  imagine  Jesus 
Christ  withdrawn  from  the  support  of  his  church,  or  in- 
different to  the  holiness  and  virtue  of  our  race." 


SECTION  FOURTH. 
SOCIETY. 

1810.  PROVIDENCE  MANIFESTED  IN  THE  PROGRESS  OF 
SOCIETY.  "  We  must  not  suffer  the  miseries  which  history 
brings  to  view  to  fill  our  minds,  and  to  crowd  from  them 
the  animating  conviction  of  an  ovei'ruling  Providence, 
which  will  make  light  spring  up  in  darkness,  and  the  furious 


PROGRESS    OF   SOCIETY.  319 

waves  subside  into  peace.  We  ought  to  remember,  that, 
whilst  society  has  been  so  agitated,  innumerable  individuals 
have,  in  all  ages,  enjoyed  peace  and  security  ;  that,  in  the 
family  retreat,  where  history  never  penetrates,  the  domestic 
virtues  have  been  cherished,  and  all  the  endearments  and 
improvements  of  social  intercourse  enjoyed.  We  ought  to 
remember,  that,  amidst  the  convulsions  of  the  world,  the 
cause  of  truth  and  religion  has  ever  maintained  its  ground, 
and  been  silently  extending  its  influence;  that  the  race 
has  been  progressive ;  that  the  light  of  revelation,  which  at 
first  faintly  gleamed  in  an  obscure  corner  of  the  world,  is 
now  beaming  on  many  nations  ;  and  that  treasures  of 
knowledge  and  wisdom  have  constantly  been  accumulating 
as  they  have  been  transmitted  from  age  to  age.  Let  us 
not,  then,  waver  in  the  belief,  which  there  is  so  much  to 
confirm,  that  there  is  a  wise  and  almighty  Providence  ex- 
tended over  all  the  changes  of  society. 

"As  the  individuals  of  the  human  race  pass  through 
stages  of  helplessness,  inexperience,  and  suffering,  before 
they  attain  the  vigour  of  their  powers ;  so  the  race  itself  is 
destined  to  pass  through  its  infancy  and  growth,  before  it 
attains  to  wisdom  and  happiness.  As  the  individual  im- 
proves by  experience,  and  gains  the  best  lessons  from 
suffering;  so,  perhaps,  society  is  to  be  instructed  and 
ameliorated  by  calamity.  Future  ages  may  look  back  on 
the  present,  and,  whilst  they  shudder  at  the  scenes  of  con- 
fusion and  bloodshed  which  are  now  exhibited,  may  be  kept 
from  that  depravity  of  manners,  that  selfish,  mercenary 
spirit,  that  neglect  of  Christianity  and  of  education,  that 
pride  and  ambition,  which  are  the  sources  of  our  miseries. 
But,  whatever  be  the  methods  of  Providence,  we  may  be 
assured  that  the  interests  of  virtue  and  religion  will  triumph, 
and  with  these  all  the  interests  of  society  will  be  advanced. 
Nothing  is  wanting,  except  the  extension  of  pure  principle 
and  pure  manners,  to  make  society  happy ;  and,  without 


320  SPIRITUAL   GEOWTH. 

this,  all  other  improvements  will  be  of  no  avail.     But  this 

will  be  effected 

"  The  time  is  coming  when  the  wicked  will  be  remem- 
bered only  to  instruct  and  improve,  and  the  miseries  of 
men  be  remembered  only  to  illustrate  the  triumphs  of 
goodness  and  happiness.  Let  us,  then,  never  faint ;  but  in 
the  darkest  period  cleave  to  the  cause  of  righteousness, 
seek  to  bless  and  reform  mankind,  and  exult  in  the  thought 
that  our  labours  shall  not  be  in  vain  in  the  Lord  Jesus." 

1804.  JUSTICE.  "  It  is  right  that  every  individual  should 
be  secured  in  all  enjoyments  which  consist  with  general  en- 
joyment. An  individual  in  a  state  of  nature  would  suffer 
a  wrong,  if  made  to  experience  any  unnecessary  harm  or 
privation.  Thus,  before  all  compact,  it  appears  that  in- 
dividuals have  a  right  to  appropriate  the  useful  objects  of 
the  world ;  and  social  compact  is  necessary  only  to  establish 
certain  rules  or  principles  according  to  which  those  objects 
may  be  appropriated  to  general  advantage.  These  rules  or 
principles  form  what  we  term  the  rights  of  man ;  they  grow 
out  of  that  eternal  moral  truth,  which  is  the  fountain  of  all 
right,  that  the  greatest  good  should  be  promoted ;  they  be- 
long to  the  nature  of  man,  as  a  being  capable  of  enjoyment, 
and  dependent  for  comfort  and  support  on  the  productions 
of  the  earth.  It  is  important  thus  to  consider  the  foundation 
of  property  and  of  the  rights  of  man,  that  we  may  form  a 
correct  opinion  of  that  Justice  which  consists  in  respecting 
these  rights  and  that  property.  If  the  institution  of 
property  originates  in  the  general  good,  if  the  right  of  pro- 
perty be  nothing  more  than  the  right  of  the  individual  to 
enjoy  all  which  is  consistent  with  general  good,  then  justice 
is  in  truth  one  with  benevolence.  It  consists  in  embracing 
the  general  welfare,  and  in  revering  those  rules  and  prin- 
ciples on  which  this  welfare  depends 

"  Justice  differs  from  mercy,  not  in  its  nature  but  in  the 


JUSTICE.  321 

circumstances  under  which  it  is  exercised.  Both  justice 
and  mercy  have  the  same  object — the  general  good :  but 
justice  is  limited  to  those  cases  where  public  good  pre- 
scribes a  clear,  precise,  and  unchanging  course  of  action  ; 
while  mercy  is  exercised  in  circumstances  to  which  no 
definite  rules  can  be  applied,  and  in  which  the  general 
good  requires  that  the  individual  should  be  left  to  his  own 
judgment  and  discretion.  Thus  justice  is  something  more 
than  that  petty  honesty  which  seeks  nothing  but  self,  and 
which  is  contented  with  regarding  such  established  prin- 
ciples as  cannot  be  violated  without  incurring  punishment 
or  disgrace.  Its  whole  nature  is  impartial,  diffusive  be- 
nevolence. 

"  I  would  further  observe,  that,  if  it  be  the  nature  of 
justice  to  avoid  whatever  is  clearly  opposed  to  our  neighbour, 
it  is  unjust,  in  our  dealings  with  others,  to  desire  and  seek 
more  than  the  value  of  our  commodities.  Mutual  benefit 
is  the  very  end  of  trade  or  commerce.  We  know,  when 
our  neighbour  contracts  with  us,  that  he  expects  an  equi 
valent.  We  know  that  he  makes  a  transfer  of  his  property 
for  some  valuable  consideration,  and  we  have  no  right  to 
offer  as  an  equivalent  what  we  certainly  know  bears  no  pro- 
portion to  the  property  he  transfers.  A  just  man  will  never 
lose  sight  of  the  interests  of  his  neighbour.  He  will  not, 
indeed,  feel  himself  bound  to  take  the  same  care  of  an- 
other's property  as  of  his  own;  for  this  is  impracticable. 
He  will  suppose  that  every  man,  who  possesses  common 
understanding,  knows  best  his  own  interests,  and  on  this 
ground  he  will  deal  with  him.  But  when  he  certainly 
knows  that  his  neighbour  is  injuring  himself,  that  a  pro- 
posed contract  cannot  be  attended  with  mutual  benefit,  he 
has  no  right  to  presume  that  his  neighlxmr  is  taking  care 
of  himself.  As  surely  as  he  regards  the  rights  of  others, 
he  will  feel  that  he  has  no  right  to  offer  as  an  equivalent 
what  he  knows  has  no  value. 


322  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

"  My  friends,  believe  it,  and  impress  it  on  your  hearts, 
that  justice  unconnected  with  benevolence  is  not  -worth 
possessing :  it  is  the  growth  of  selfishness,  and  knaves 
may  boast  of  it.  That  man,  who  makes  his  own  private 
interest  supreme,  who  cares  not  how  much  his  neighbour 
suffers  if  he  may  himself  be  advanced,  who  can  take  plea- 
sure in  gains  which  he  knows  are  necessarily  connected 
with  the  loss  and  injury  of  others,  who,  under  pretence  oi 
leaving  his  neighbour  to  provide  for  himself,  will  impose 
upon  him,  as  an  equivalent,  what  he  knows  to  be  worth 
nothing — that  man  may  talk  of  integrity,  and  hold  high 
his  head  in  a  mercenary  world,  but  he  knows  not  the  mean- 
ing of  justice.  He  never  felt  that  generous  regard  to  right 
which  is  of  more  worth,  and  confers  more  happiness,  than 
all  the  gains  of  selfishness  and  iniquity.  It  is  not  hard  to 
determine  what  such  a  man  would  choose,  if  he  had  no 
alternative  but  poverty  or  injustice.  This,  my  friends,  is 
the  test  of  our  character.  The  principles  of  that  man  are 
worth  little,  who  will  not  sacrifice  all  he  possesses  to  prin- 
ciple ;  and  can  you  expect  such  sacrifice  from  the  selfish 
soul,  which  is  willing,  yea,  happy,  that  others  should  fall, 
if  his  own  interests  may  be  advanced  ?  Beware  of  selfish- 
ness ;  consider  that  you  can  never  obtain  a  right  to  do  injury, 
that  the  foundation  of  all  property  is  general  good 

"  If  such  be  perfect  justice,  so  incorruptible,  what  reason 
have  we  to  fear  that  there  is  little  of  this  principle,  when 
we  see  the  expedients  and  precautions  which  are  adopted 
to  prevent  men  from  abusing  a  trifling  trust,  from  sacrificing 
the  interests  of  their  neighbour  to  a  trifling  gain  !  We 
carry  our  own  shame  on  our  foreheads.  Most  of  our  civil 
institutions  grow  out  of  our  corruptions.  We  cannot  live 
without  mutual  dependence,  and  yet  we  are  forced  to  hedge 
each  other  round,  to  bind  and  shackle  each  other,  to  institute 
inquiries,  and  to  watch  with  anxious  caution  lest  we  should 
abuse  each  other's  necessities,  and  take  advantage  of  trust 


JUSTICE.  323 

to  betray  it.  If  men  were  what  men  should  be,  we  should 
feel  our  property  as  safe  in  the  hands  of  others  as  in  our 
own.  We  should  find  in  every  man  a  guardian,  instead  of 
an  invader,  of  our  rights.  We  should  lay  open  our  posses- 
sions. We  should  want  no  better  security  than  our  neigh- 
bour's word,  and  no  better  witness  than  our  neighbour's 
conscience.  Imagination  dwells  with  delight  on  this  state 
of  peaceful,  unsuspicious,  undisturbed  enjoyment.  Is  it 
never  to  be  made  a  reality  ? 

"  Justice  forbids  us  to  borrow  what  we  have  no  prospect 
of  repaying.  When  we  are  reduced  to  such  low  circum- 
stances, it  is  more  honourable  to  beg,  to  cast  ourselves  on 
mercy,  than  to  deceive  our  neighbour  into  an  opinion  of  our 
ability,  and  thus  to  rob  him  of  his  property.  We  should 
never  subject  ourselves  to  larger  demands  than  we  shall 
probably  be  able  to  answer.  We  should  never  use  arts  that 
we  may  obtain  larger  credit  than  we  deserve.  We  have 
no  right  to  borrow  when  our  circumstances  are  such  as,  if 
known,  would  prevent  others  from  lending.  We  have  no 
right  to  borrow  that  we  may  run  some  desperate  risk  for 
retrieving  a  falling  fortune.  Whenever  we  have  contracted 
debts,  we  should  be  prompt  and  earnest  to  discharge  them. 
We  should  particularly  remember  the  labourer  who  depends 
on  daily  wages  for  subsistence.  The  Scriptures  tell  us  that 
his  hire  crieth  unto  the  Lord  for  vengeance.  We  should 
never  allow  ourselves  pleasures  and  indulgences  while  our 
neighbour  is  complaining  for  want  of  what  we  owe  him. 
Let  us  consider  that  nothing  belongs  to  us  while  we  are 
indebted  to  another.  It  is  our  duty  to  use  the  property  in 
our  hands  as  the  property  of  our  creditor.  He  has  a  right 
to  expect  that  we  be  frugal,  that  we  retrench  all  unneces- 
sary expenses,  that  we  exercise  prudence,  economy,  and 
regularity,  that  we  avoid  all  desperate  hazards,  and  labour 
patiently  that  we  may  render  him  his  due 

"  Power  confers  no  claim,  and  weakness  can  impair  no 


324  SPIRITUAL   GROWTH. 

right.  It  is  the  glorious  design  of  civil  institutions  to  con- 
centre public  strength  in  support  of  individual  right,  to 
guard  the  property  of  the  feeble  by  the  majesty  of  the  state. 
But  no  government  can  fully  accomplish  the  ends  of  its 
institution.  No  outward  penalties  can  supply  the  place  of 
an  inward  principle  of  justice.  They  who  have  power  can 
always  find  some  opportunity  of  abusing  it.  Justice  forbids 
us  to  violate  the  possessions  of  those  who  depend  upon  us, 
and  who  therefore  dare  not  provoke  our  displeasure  by  the 
assertion  of  their  rights.  It  forbids  us  to  abuse  any  circum- 
stance which  puts  our  neighbour  in  our  power,  or  to  extort 
his  consent  to  injurious  measures,  or  to  reduce  him  to  the 
necessity  of  sacrificing  his  property,  by  threatening  him 
with  evils  to  which  we  are  able  to  expose  him 

"  Justice  brands  as  robbery  the  abuse  of  power  for  sup- 
pressing the  claims  of  the  feeble,  or  alarming  the  fears  of 
the  dependent.  It  recommends  the  weak  and  poor  to  our 
protection.  It  renders  the  defenceless  hovel  of  poverty  as 
sacred  as  the  palace  of  affluence.  It  makes  the  cause  of 
the  oppressed  our  own,  and  animates  us  with  generous 
zeal  to  rescue  the  helpless  from  the  grasp  of  the  ra- 
pacious  

"  Justice,  being  sincere  regard  to  right,  requires  us  to 
disapprove  and  to  discourage  the  imperious.  It  requires 
us  at  all  times  to  throw  our  whole  weight  into  the  scale 
of  the  injured.  It  forbids  us  to  connive  at  imposition,  to 
furnish  others  with  the  means  of  temptations  to  fraud  or 
violence,  to  reduce  them  to  dishonesty,  that  we  may  be 
benefited.  It  calls  us  to  frown  on  the  base,  to  separate 
ourselves  from  their  fellowship,  to  keep  none  of  their 
counsels,  to  bring  their  designs  to  light,  and  to  crush  their 
schemes  of  dishonesty.  Men  are  prone  to  stoop  to  suc- 
cessful villany.  They  seem  to  forget  the  steps  by  which 
wicked  men  have  ascended  to  eminence.  They  forget  the 
tears  of  the  oppressed,  the  necessities  of  the  plundered,  the 


A   WISE    BENEVOLENCE.  325 

hopeless  poverty  of  the  fatherless  and  widow.  But  justice 
is  inflexible.  It  can  give  no  countenance  to  extortion  and 
dishonesty.  It  looks  through  the  false  splendour  with 
which  the  wicked  are  surrounded,  and  sees  and  detests 
their  baseness.  No  threats,  no  seductions,  can  bend  the 
just  man  to  smile  on  the  knave  and  the  robber.  He  takes 
a  firm,  elevated  ground.  He  dares  to  be  poor  himself; 
and  he  dares  to  remember  the  oppressions  and  injuries  of 

the  great 

"A just  man  appeals  from  the  laws  of  the  land  to  the 
dictates  of  conscience.  He  does  not  cling  to  every  shadow 
of  right.  He  does  not  take  advantage  of  ambiguity  of  ex- 
pression, to  beat  down  what  he  knows  to  be  a  substantial 
claim.  He  does  not  abuse  the  ignorance  of  his  neighbour, 
and  uphold,  by  legal  subtleties,  an  unfounded  demand.  He 
does  not  press  even  his  undoubted  rights  too  close,  lest  he 
should  border  upon  injustice.  He  reverences  the  laws,  as 
they  are  the  guardians  of  right.  He  holds  nothing  merely 
because  the  laws  do  not  take  it  away.  He  seizes  nothing 
merely  because  the  laws  do  not  prohibit  it.  He  considers 
that  laws  do  not  create  right,  that  there  are  eternal  prin- 
ciples of  truth  and  rectitude  to  which  all  civil  laws  must  be 
reduced  as  their  standard  ;  and  to  the  principle  written  by 
God  on  the  heart,  and  confirmed  in  the  Holy  Scriptures, 
he  refers  all  his  actions  which  relate  to  the  property  of 
others." 

1807.  BENEVOLENCE  UNITED  WITH  WISDOM.  "I  am  sen- 
sible, my  friends,  that  I  am  cautioning  you  against  an  ex- 
cess to  which  you  are  not  very  much  exposed.  It  is  not 
the  fault  of  the  present  day,  that  men,  in  their  zeal  for 
others,  forget  themselves.  We  hear  of  romance,  but  there 
is  very  little  of  romantic  benevolence  in  the  world.  The 
great  difficulty  is  to  draw  men  out  of  themselves ;  and 
when  it  is  so  hard  to  persuade  them  to  take  a  few  steps 


326  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

beyond  their  narrow  circle,  there  seems  little  reason  for 
cautioning  them  against  running  too  far  and  hurrying  too 
fast  from  this  narrow  point.  But  to  those  who  have  caught 
some  of  the  light  and  life  of  Christian  goodness,  whose 
hearts  go  abroad  and  embrace  the  family  of  their  Father  in 
heaven,  it  may  not  be  useless  to  suggest,  that  the  influence 
of  your  characters  very  much  depends  on  your  uniting  with 
the  amiableness  of  the  dove  the  wisdom  of  the  serpent. 
Let  men  see  that  your  kindness  is  not  a  rash,  sudden, 
ungoverned  feeling;  but  a  rational,  calm,  steady  principle — • 
an  image  of  Divine  benevolence;  which  is  regular,  wise, 
and  marked  by  order,  harmony,  and  extensive  views  in  all 
its  operations.  Let  them  see  that  your  benevolence  is  not 
a  transitory  emotion,  which  is  excited  by  some  present 
object,  and  which  sacrifices  future  good  and  future  means 
of  usefulness  to  accomplish  some  pleasing  end  immediately 
in  its  view ;  but  teach  them  that  Christian  benevolence, 
with  all  its  ardour,  is  yet  consistent  with  the  highest 
prudence,  that  it  examines  its  objects  with  calmness, 
anticipates  consequences,  acts  on  a  wide  and  generous 
scale." 

1809.  PEACE  ON  EABTH.  "  Peace  is  a  state  of  harmony 
between  beings  who  have  one  interest,  are  alive  to  the 
same  pleasures  and  pains,  and  participate  in  each  other's 
views  and  feelings.  Our  Saviour,  in  his  last  prayer  for  his 
disciples,  has  taught  us  what  he  meant  by  the  peace  which 
he  came  to  establish  on  earth,  when  he  expresses  again  and 
again  this  desire,  that  they  might  '  be  one,  even  as  he  and 
the  Father  were  one.' 

"  By  this  peace,  we  are  not  to  understand  merely  that 
state  of  things  in  which  men  abstain  from  mutual  injury. 
It  is  that  mutual  affection  which  prompts  us  to  every 
sacrifice  for  one  another's  good,  and  renders  each  happy  to  do 
and  to  suffer  for  his  friend.  Peace  is  sometimes  spoken  of 


A   WISE    BENEVOLENCE.  327 

as  a  negative,  inactive  state.  But  in  the  gospel  it  expresses 
something  very  different — the  union  of  good  hearts,  which 
are  inflamed  with  the  best  sentiments,  which  are  attracted 
by  congeniality,  and  which  conspire  to  act  for  the  common 
welfare.  This  peace  is  not  the  profession  of  lips,  but 
living  concord. 

"  The  end  for  which  Jesus  Christ  came  was  to  convert 
men  into  real  friends,  to  make  them  objects  of  each  other's 
attachment,  to  give  them  a  common  feeling  and  a  common 
interest.  He  came  to  operate  on  the  spirit,  to  produce  in- 
ward effects,  to  implant  a  principle  of  true  love,  to  fit  men 
for  the  most  endearing  relations.  He  came  to  adorn 
the  human  character,  to  strip  it  of  every  thing  fierce  and 
repulsive,  to  make  it  attractive,  to  shed  round  it  the 
mild  lustre  of  benevolence.  He  came  to  take  from  men's 
hands  the  implements  of  war,  and  to  open  their  arms 
to  embrace  one  another.  He  came  to  dispel  distrust, 
suspicion,  and  jealousy ;  to  render  man  worthy  of  the  con- 
fidence of  his  brother ;  to  bring  men  to  that  exalted  state  in 
which  they  will  lay  bare  their  whole  souls  without  fear. 
He  came  to  draw  men  off  from  separate  interests,  and  to 
win  them  to  objects  in  which  all  may  combine,  to  which  all 
may  lend  their  aid,  and  which  will  thus  form  the  means  of 
affectionate  intercourse.  He  came  to  soften  insensibility, 
to  make  many  hearts  beat  in  unison,  to  excite  the  tenderest 
concern  for  each  individual's  welfare,  and  the  most  generous, 
disinterested  labours  for  the  common  good.  He  came  to 
root  out  envy,  to  give  every  person  an  interest  in  the  ex- 
cellence of  others,  to  make  us  look  with  delight  on  all 
promises  of  goodness,  to  rouse  us  to  be  helpers  of  each 
other's  purity  and  perfection,  to  teach  us  to  feel  that  the 
progress  of  our  brethren  is  our  own.  He  came  to  form 
such  a  union  amongst  men  as  would  lead  them  to  pour 
freely  from  their  hearts  the  noblest  views  and  feelings,  and 
thus  become  the  means  of  enkindling  every  grace  and 


328  SPIRITUAL   GROWTH. 

virtue,  and  mutual  sources  of  love  and  wisdom.  He  came, 
in  a  word,  so  to  bind  us  together  that  we  should  count 
nothing  material  or  spiritual  our  own,  but  hold  all  things 
in  common,  and  give  all  to  the  general  well-being." 

1812.  PARTY  SPIRIT.  "  I  wish  to  address  you  at  this 
time  on  the  subject  of  party  spirit,  the  great  instrument  by 
which  free  states  are  divided  and  destroyed.  As  this  spirit 
may  be  considered  the  sin  of  our  nation,  and  as  it  is  the 
spring  of  so  many  crimes,  we  may  with  great  propriety 
consider  it  on  this  day,  which  is  designed  to  produce  na- 
tional humility  and  reformation 

"  Party  spirit  is  by  no  means  the  same  thing  with  warm 
attachment  to  a  party,  and  with  asserting  with  spirit  its 
principles.  It  is  very  possible  to  be  connected  with  a  party, 
and  yet  to  escape  the  contagion  of  party  spirit.  We  shall 
be  most  unjust,  if  we  ascribe  this  spirit  to  all  who,  from 
political  connections,  engage  in  political  contests.  We  are 
possessed  by  this  bad  spirit,  not  when  we  join  a  party,  but 
when  we  prefer  its  interests  to  the  good  of  the  state  ;  when 
we  propose,  as  our  end,  to  keep  our  party  in  power,  and 
are  indifferent  to  the  character  of  the  men  by  whom  this 
end  is  promoted ;  when,  having  taken  our  side,  we  deter- 
mine to  keep  it,  because  we  will  not  acknowledge  that  we 
have  erred,  and  because  our  advancement  or  interests  are 
involved  in  the  success  of  our  party.  This  is  party  spirit — 
the  offspring  of  selfishness,  passion,  pride,  jealousy,  and 
love  of  distinction ; — a  spirit  which  is  willing  to  sacrifice 
the  whole  to  a  part,  which  hypocritically  pretends  devotion 
to  the  public  good  for  the  mere  purpose  of  getting  or  keep- 
ing influence,  which  will  injure  the  state  rather  than  make 
concessions  to  opponents,  or  renounce  principles  which  it 
has  pledged  itself  to  support.  Such  is  party  spirit,  the 
worst  enemy  of  free  governments,  the  enemy  from  which 
we  have  every  thing  to  fear — which  has  already  laid  its 


PARTY    SPIRIT.  329 

polluting  and  destroying  hand  on  our  best  institutions,  and 
has  made  the  sacred  fabric  of  the  state  tremble  to  its  foun- 
dation  

"  Party  spirit  corrupts  the  individual.  There  is  no  pas- 
sion which  has  such  influence  in  perverting  the  judgment 
and  darkening  the  understanding.  A  slight  observation 
will  teach  you  that  the  man  who  devotes  himself  to  the 
interests  of  his  party  loses  all  independence  of  mind.  Let 
his  party  do  what  it  may,  he  sees  nothing  wrong  in  their 
measures,  or  at  least  he  vindicates  them  as  if  satisfied  of 
their  correctness.  He  takes  his  tone  from  his  leaders, 
and  judges  as  he  is  told  to  judge.  In  vain  are  the  prin- 
ciples and  falsehoods  of  his  party  exposed.  Too  proud  to 
retract,  and  pledged  to  support  the  cause,  he  flies  to  artful 
evasion  or  clamorous  assertion,  and  continues  to  justify 
gross  iniquity.  You  may  look  to  any  man  for  fairness  of 
mind  and  sensibility  to  truth,  rather  than  to  a  confirmed 
partisan.  He  gives  up  his  reason,  his  dignity  as  a  rational 
being,  to  his  party.  Party  spirit  has  as  fatal  effects  on  the 
heart  as  on  the  understanding.  The  man  who  surrenders 
himself  to  the  interests  of  his  party  becomes  a  malignant 
man.  Irritation  becomes  the  habit  of  his  mind.  He  can- 
not think  of  his  opponents  without  animosity.  He  cannot 
speak  of  them  without  bitterness.  He  condemns  all  they 
do,  believes  all  the  crimes  which  are  imputed  to  them,  and 
circulates,  if  he  does  not  magnify,  calumnious  rumours. 
He  watches  for  their  halting,  exults  in  their  vices,  and 
looks  unmoved  on  their  miseries.  Am  I  wrong,  in  saying 
that  nothing  hardens  the  heart,  nothing  sheds  malignant 
poison  through  the  feelings,  more  than  party  spirit  ?  Look 
any  where  for  candour,  generosity,  and  tenderness,  rather 
than  to  the  breast  of  a  partisan.  Where  this  spirit  prevails 
in  a  community,  fellow-citizens  learn  to  hate  each  other 
more  than  they  hate  a  foreign  foe,  and  thus  become  inflamed 
and  ripe  for  civil  convulsions. 


330  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

"  From  what  has  been  said,  you  will  easily  comprehend 
the  next  evil  of  party  spirit,  when  it  prevails  in  a  state.  It 
reconciles  the  people  and  their  rulers  to  the  most  criminal 
practices.  The  sense  of  right  is  gradually  impaired,  and  at 
length  borne  down,  by  the  desire  of  exalting  the  party. 
The  end  sanctifies  the  means.  The  doctrine  is  almost 
explicitly  asserted,  that  moral  principle  is  not  to  be  strictly 
applied  to  political  movements.  The  question  is  not,  Are 
measures  righteous  ? — but,  Will  they  build  up  the  party  ? 
Intrigue  and  stratagem  are  called  policy.  To  lie,  to  mutilate 
the  truth,  to  deceive  the  ignorant,  to  pour  out  slander  on 
good  men — these  become  things  of  course,  so  common  as 
to  be  expected ;  so  common  that  the  moral  sensibility  is  at 
length  blunted,  and  we  hear  of  them  without  indignation. 
The  partisan  is  insensibly  goaded  and  incited  by  numbers 
into  measures  from  which  his  better  principles  would  at 
first  have  recoiled.  So  many  share  his  guilt,  that  his  own 
part  of  the  burden  seems  light.  At  length  he  loses  the 
feeling  of  responsibility  for  his  political  conduct,  and  there 
is  nothing  too  base  which  you  have  not  to  fear  from  him,  if 
his  party  may  be  advanced  by  it. 

"  Another  tremendous  evil  attending  the  prevalence  of 
party  spirit  is  this :  the  door  of  honour  and  office  is  thrown 
open  to  the  worst  men  in  the  community.  The  only  ques- 
tion respecting  the  candidate  for  office  is,  Can  he  serve  the 
party  ?  It  is  of  little  importance  that  he  is  abhorred  by  the 
good  and  despised  even  by  his  own  associates,  that  he  is 
known  to  be  unprincipled,  that  none  will  trust  the  smallest 
part  of  their  property  to  his  hands.  Will  he  serve  the 
cause  ?  is  the  only  question.  If,  with  want  of  principle,  he 
combines  great  cunning — a  combination  not  uncommon, 
— he  is  the  very  man  the  party  want.  His  vice  is  his 
recommendation.  Power  and  honour  are  thrown  into  his 
polluted  hands.  Base  as  he  is,  he  is  adorned  with  the 
badges  of  office,  the  marks  of  public  confidence ;  and, 


PAKTY    SPIRIT.  331 

though  unfaithful  in  every  thing,  he  is  very  seldom  unfaith- 
ful to  the  party  which  raised  him  to  power.  He  never 
forgets  to  whom  he  owes  his  elevation,  and  the  patronage 
and  influence  of  his  station  are  all  employed  to  throw  office 
and  wealth  into  the  hands  of  his  confederates.  Office  is 
made  a  bribe.  Exclusive  privileges  are  granted  to  the 
party.  New  laws  are  made,  ancient  usages  abolished, 
ancient  institutions  thrown  down,  to  confirm  the  dominant 
party.  My  friends,  you  can  easily  conceive  the  effect  on 
public  morals,  when  the  worst  men  have  the  easiest  access 
to  power,  when  the  glare  of  station  is  thrown  around  the 
unprincipled,  when  character  has  ceased  to  be  a  qualification 
for  public  confidence.  You  can  easily  conceive  the  insta- 
bility and  the  ruinous  influence  of  that  government  which 
is  administered  for  the  very  purpose  of  giving  strength  to 

a  faction,  and  crushing  the  falling  party 

"  When  party  spirit  has  reached  this  tremendous  height, 
when  it  wields  the  power  of  the  state,  I  need  not  tell  you 
that  liberty  is  in  effect  lost.  The  name  of  liberty  may, 
indeed,  ring  through  the  land ;  but  who  is  free '?  The 
very  adherents  of  the  dominant  party  are  in  bondage.  The 
vengeance  of  the  party  hangs  over  the  individual  who  dares 
to  think  or  act  for  himself.  The  leaders  issue  laws,  dictate 
the  measures,  say  who  shall  be  chosen,  and  select  the  arts 
and  falsehoods  which  will  best  suit  the  occasion.  The 
obedient  partisan  opens  his  lips  to  receive  the  invented  lie, 
and  puts  his  hands  to  the  vile  task  which  is  assigned  him. 
In  such  a  state  of  things  public  sentiment  is  a  name ; — the 
voice  of  a  few  leaders  alone  is  heard  and  obeyed.  If  the 
dominant  party  are  in  chains,  what  can  we  hope  for  the 
minority  ?  No  pains  are  spared  to  strip  them  of  their  just 
and  lawful  influence  in  the  state.  Their  rights  are  trampled 
under  foot.  They  are  divided,  broken  into  fragments,  that 
they  may  exert  no  joint-power  for  counteracting  their  adver- 
saries. Do  they  proclaim  their  wrongs,  they  are  menaced. 


332  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

Freedom  of  speech  is  a  crime,  is  treason;  opposition  to  the 
reigning  faith  is  rebellion.  Passive  obedience  is  preached 
to  them  by  the  very  men  who  rose  to  power  by  proclaiming 
liberty.  The  venerable  patriot  hears  himself  denounced 
by  men  who  hate  him  because  he  knows  their  baseness, 
and  who  are  fattening  on  the  spoils  of  that  country  for 
which  he  toiled  and  bled.  Thus  despotism  in  effect  grows 
out  of  party  spirit,  and  despotism  inform,  in  its  true  and 
undisguised  shape,  is  not  slow  to  follow." 

1810  (April  5,  Day  of  Public  Fast).  THE  MILITARY 
DESPOTISM  OF  FRANCE.  "Am  I  asked,  What  there  is  so 
peculiar  in  our  times?  I  answer: — In  the  very  heart  of 
Europe,  in  the  centre  of  the  civilized  world,  a  new  power 
has  suddenly  arisen  on  the  ruins  of  old  institutions,  peculiar 
in  its  character,  and  most  ruinous  in  its  influence.  We 
there  see  a  nation,  which,  from  its  situation,  its  fertility, 
and  population,  has  always  held  a  commanding  rank  in 
Europe,  suddenly  casting  off  the  form  of  government,  the 
laws,  the  habits,  the  spirit,  by  which  it  was  assimilated  to 
surrounding  nations,  and  by  which  it  gave  to  them  the 
power  of  restraining  it ;  and  all  at  once  assuming  a  new 
form,  and  erecting  a  new  government,  free  in  name  and 
profession,  but  holding  at  its  absolute  disposal  the  property 
and  life  of  every  subject,  and  directing  all  its  energies  to 
the  subjugation  of  foreign  countries.  We  see  the  supreme 
power  of  this  nation  passing  in  rapid  succession  from  one 
hand  to  another.  But  its  object  never  changes.  We  see 
it  dividing  and  corrupting  by  its  arts,  and  then  overwhelm- 
ing by  its  arms,  the  nations  which  surround  it.  We  see 
one  end  steadily  kept  in  view — the  creation  of  an  irresist- 
ible military  power.  For  this  end,  we  see  every  man,  in 
the  prime  of  life,  subjected  to  military  service.  We  see 
military  talent  every  where  excited,  and  by  every  means 
rewarded.  The  arts  of  life,  agriculture,  commerce,  all  are 


MILITARY   DESPOTISM.  333 

of  secondary  value.  In  short,  we  see  a  mighty  nation 
sacrificing  every  blessing  in  the  prosecution  of  an  un- 
principled attempt  at  universal  conquest. 

"  The  result  you  well  know.  The  surrounding  nations, 
unprepared  for  this  new  conflict,  and  absolutely  incapaci- 
tated by  their  old  habits  and  institutions  to  meet  this  new 
power  on  equal  terms,  have  fallen  in  melancholy  succes- 
sion ;  and  each,  as  it  has  fallen,  has  swelled  by  its  plunder 
the  power  and  rapacity  of  its  conquerors.  We  now  be- 
hold this  nation  triumphant  over  Continental  Europe.  Its 
armies  are  immensely  numerous ;  yet  the  number  is  not 
the  circumstance  which  renders  them  most  formidable. 
These  armies  have  been  trained  to  conquest  by  the  most 
perfect  discipline.  At  their  head  are  generals  who  have 
risen  only  by  military  merit.  They  are  habituated  to  vic- 
tory, and  their  enemies  are  habituated  to  defeat. 

"  All  this  immense  power  is  now  centred  in  one  hand, 
wielded  by  one  mind — a  mind  formed  in  scenes  of  revo- 
lution and  blood — a  mind  most  vigorous  and  capacious, 
but  whose  capacity  is  filled  with  plans  of  dominion  and  de- 
vastation. It  has  not  room  for  one  thought  of  mercy. 
The  personal  character  of  Napoleon  is  of  itself  sufficient 
to  inspire  the  gloomiest  forebodings.  But,  in  addition  to 
his  lust  for  power,  he  is  almost  impelled  by  the  necessity 
of  his  circumstances  to  carry  on  the  bloody  work  of  con- 
quest. His  immense  armies,  the  only  foundations  of  his 
empire,  must  be  supported.  Impoverished  France,  how- 
ever, cannot  give  them  support.  They  must  therefore  live 
on  the  spoils  of  other  nations.  But  the  nations  which  they 
successively  spoil,  and  whose  industry  and  arts  they  ex- 
tinguish, cannot  long  sustain  them.  Hence  they  must 
pour  themselves  into  new  regions.  Hence  plunder,  devas- 
tation, and  new  conquests  are  not  merely  the  outrages  of 
wanton  barbarity ;  they  are  essential  even  to  the  existence 
of  this  tremendous  power. 


334  SPIRITUAL   GROWTH. 

"  What  overwhelming,  disheartening  prospects  are  these ! 
In  the  midst  of  Christendom  this  most  sanguinary  power 
has  reared  its  head,  and  holds  the  world  in  defiance  ;  and 
now,  let  me  ask,  how  are  we  impressed  in  these  dark,  dis- 
astrous times  ?  Here  is  every  form  of  misery.  We  are 
called  to  sympathize  with  fallen  greatness,  with  descendants 
of  ancient  sovereigns,  hurled  from  their  thrones  and  cast 
out  to  contempt ;  and,  if  these  do  not  move  us,  our  sym- 
pathy is  demanded  by  a  wretched  peasantry,  driven  from 
their  humble  roofs  and  abandoned  to  hunger  and  unshel- 
tered poverty.  The  decaying  city,  the  desolated  country, 
the  weeping  widow,  the  forsaken  orphan,  call  on  us  for  our 
tears.  Nations,  broken  in  spirit,  yet  forced  to  smother 
their  sorrows,  call  on  us,  with  a  silent  eloquence,  to  feel 
for  their  wrongs  ;  and  how  are  we  moved  by  these  scenes 
of  ruin,  horror,  and  alarm  ?  Does  there  not,  my  friends, 
prevail  among  us  a  cold  indifference,  as  if  all  this  were 
nothing  to  us,  as  if  no  tie  of  brotherhood  bound  us  to  these 
sufferers  ?  Are  we  not  prone  to  follow  the  authors  of  this 
ruin  with  an  admiration  of  their  power  and  success, 
which  almost  represses  our  abhorrence  of  their  unsparing 
cruelty  ? 

"  But  we  are  not  merely  insensible  to  the  calamities  of 
other  nations  :  there  is  a  still  stranger  insensibility  to 
our  own  dangers.  We  seem  determined  to  believe  that 
this  storm  will  spend  all  its  force  at  a  distance.  The  idea, 
that  we  are  marked  out  as  victims  of  this  all-destroying 
despotism,  that  our  turn  is  to  come  and  perhaps  is  near — 
this  idea  strikes  on  most  minds  as  a  fiction.  Our  own  deep 
interest  in  the  present  conflict  is  unfelt  even  by  some  who 
feel  as  they  ought  for  other  nations. 

"  It  is  asked,  What  has  a  nation  so  distant  as  America  to 
fear  from  the  power  of  France  ?  I  answer : — The  history 
of  all  ages  teaches  us,  all  our  knowledge  of  human  nature 
teaches  us,  that  a  nation  of  vast  and  unrivalled  power  is  to 


ENGLAND  AND  FRANCE.  335 

be  feared  by  all  the  world.  Even  had  France  attained  her 
present  greatness  under  a  long  established  government, 
without  any  of  the  habits  which  the  Revolution  has  formed, 
the  world  ought  to  view  her  with  trembling  jealousy.  What 
nation  ever  enjoyed  such  power  without  abusing  it  ?  But 
France  is  not  a  common  nation.  We  must  not  apply  to 
her  common  rules.  Conquest  is  her  trade,  her  business, 
her  recreation.  The  lust  of  power  is  the  very  vital  prin- 
ciple of  this  new  nation.  Her  strength  is  drained  out  to 
supply  her  armies  ;  —her  talents  are  exhausted  in  preparing 
schemes  of  wider  domination.  WAB,  WAR  is  the  solemn 
note  which  resounds  through  every  department  of  state. 
And  is  such  a  nation  to  be  viewed  with  indifference,  with 
unconcern  ?  Have  we  nothing  to  fear,  because  an  ocean 
rolls  between  us  ? 

Will  it  be  said  that  the  conqueror  has  too  much  work  at 
home  to  care  for  America  ?  He  has  indeed  work  at  home  ; 
but,  unhappily  for  this  country,  that  work  ever  brings  us  to 
his  view.  There  is  one  work,  one  object,  which  is  ever 
present  to  the  mind  of  Napoleon.  It  mingles  with  all  his 
thoughts.  It  is  his  dream  by  night,  his  care  by  day.  He 
did  not  forget  it  on  the  shores  of  the  Baltic,  or  the  banks 
of  the  Danube.  The  min  of  England  is  the  first,  the  most 
settled  purpose  of  his  heart.  That  nation  is  the  only  bar- 
rier to  his  ambition.  In  the  opulence,  the  energy,  the  pub- 
lic spirit,  the  liberty  of  England,  he  sees  the  only  obstacles 
to  universal  dominion.  England  once  fallen,  and  the  civil- 
ized world  lies  at  his  feet.  England  erect,  and  there  is 
one  asylum  for  virtue,  magnanimity,  freedom ;  one  spark 
which  may  set  the  world  on  fire  ;  one  nation  to  encourage 
the  disaffected — to  hold  up  to  the  oppressed  the  standard 
of  revolt.  England,  therefore,  is  the  great  object  of  the 
hostile  fury  of  the  French  emperor.  England  is  the  great 
end  of  his  plans ;  and  his  plans  of  course  embrace  all  na- 
tions which  come  in  contact  with  England ;  which  love  or 


336  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

hate  her,  which  can  give  her  support  or  contribute  to  her 
downfall. 

"  We,  then,  we  may  he  assured,  are  not  overlooked  by 
Napoleon.  We  are  a  nation  sprung  from  England.  We 
have  received  from  her  our  laws,  and  many  of  our  institu- 
tions. We  speak  her  language,  and  in  her  language  we 
dare  to  express  the  indignation  which  she  feels  at  oppres- 
sion. Besides,  we  have  other  ties  which  connect  us  with 
England.  We  are  a  commercial  people,  commercial  by 
habit,  commercial  by  our  very  situation.  But  no  nation 
can  be  commercial  without  maintaining  some  connection 
with  England — without  having  many  common  interests  with 
her — without  strengthening  the  foundations  of  her  great- 
ness. England  is  the  great  emporium  of  the  world;  and 
the  conqueror  knows  that  it  is  only  by  extinguishing  the 
commerce  of  the  world,  by  bringing  every  commercial  na- 
tion to  bear  his  yoke,  that  he  can  fix  a  mortal  wound  on 
England.  Besides,  we  are  the  neighbours  of  some  of  the 
most  valuable  English  colonies,  and  can  exert  an  important 
influence  on  those  channels  of  her  commerce,  those  sources 
of  her  opulence. 

"  Can  we,  then,  suppose  that  the  ambitious,  the  keen- 
sighted  Napoleon  overlooks  us  in  his  scheme  of  universal 
conquest ;  that  he  wants  nothing  of  us,  and  is  content  that 
we  should  prosper  and  be  at  peace,  because  we  are  so  dis- 
tant from  his  throne  ?  Has  he  not  already  told  us  that 
we  must  embark  in  his  cause  ?  Has  he  not  himself  de- 
clared war  for  us  against  England  ? 

"  Will  it  be  said,  he  wants  not  to  conquer  us,  but  only 
wishes  us  to  be  his  allies  ?  Allies  of  France  !  Is  there 
a  man  who  does  not  shudder  at  the  thought  ?  Is  there 
one  who  would  not  rather  struggle  nobly,  and  perish  under 
her  open  enmity,  than  be  crushed  by  the  embrace  of  her 
friendship, — her  alliance  ? 

"  Will  it  be  said  that  these  evils  are  political  evils,  and 


THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION.  337 

that  it  is  not  the  province  of  a  minister  of  religion  to  con- 
cern himself  with  temporal  affairs  ?  Did  I  think,  my 
friends,  that  only  political  evils  were  to  be  dreaded — did 
I  believe  that  the  minds,  the  character,  the  morals,  the  re- 
ligion of  our  nation  would  remain  untouched — did  I  see 
in  French  domination  nothing  but  the  loss  of  your  wealth, 
your  luxuries,  your  splendour — could  I  hope  that  it  would 
leave  unsullied  your  purity  of  faith  and  manners — I  would 
be  silent.  But  religion  and  virtue,  as  well  as  liberty  and 
opulence,  wither  under  the  power  of  France.  The  French 
Revolution  was  founded  in  infidelity,  impiety,  and  atheism. 
This  is  the  spirit  of  her  chiefs,  her  most  distinguished 
men  ;  and  this  spirit  she  breathes,  wherever  she  has  in- 
fluence. It  is  the  most  unhappy  effect  of  French  domi- 
nation, that  it  degrades  the  human  character  to  the  lowest 
point.  No  manly  virtues  grow  under  this  baleful,  malig- 
nant star.  France  begins  her  conquests  by  corruption,  by 
venality,  by  bribes  ;  and  where  she  succeeds,  her  deadly 
policy  secures  her  from  commotion  by  quenching  all  those 
generous  sentiments  which  produce  revolt  under  oppression. 
The  conqueror  thinks  his  work  not  half  finished  until  the 
mind  is  conquered,  its  energy  broken,  its  feeling  for  the 
public  welfare  subdued.  Such  are  the  effects  of  subjection 
to  France,  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  of  alliance  with  her ; 
and  when  we  consider  how  much  this  subjection  is  desired 
by  Napoleon,  when  we  consider  the  power  and  the  arts 
which  he  can  combine  for  effecting  his  wishes  and  pur- 
poses, what  reason  have  we  to  tremble  ! 

"  It  may  be  asked,  Whether  I  intend  by  these  remarks 
to  represent  our  country  as  in  a  hopeless  state?  No,  my 
friends,  I  have  held  up  the  danger  of  our  country  in  all 
its  magnitude,  only  that  I  may  in  my  humble  measure  ex- 
cite that  spirit  which  is  necessary,  and  which  by  the  bless- 
ing of  Providence  may  be  effectual,  to  avert  it.  Alarming 
as  our  condition  is,  there  does  appear  to  me  to  be  one 


338  SPIRITUAL   GROWTH. 

method  of  safety,  and  only  one : — As  a  people,  we  must  be 
brought  to  see  and  to  feel  our  danger ;  we  must  be  excited  to 
a  public  spirit,  an  energy,  a  magnanimity,  proportioned  to 
the  solemnity  of  the  times  in  which  we  are  called  to  act.  If 
I  may  be  permitted,  I  would  say  to  the  upright,  the  disin- 
terested, the  enlightened  friends  of  their  country,  that  the 
times  demand  new  and  peculiar  exertions.  In  the  present 
state  of  the  world,  there  is,  under  God,  but  one  hope  of  a 
people;  and  that  is,  their  own  exalted  virtue.  This, 
therefore,  should  be  your  object  and  labour — to  fix  the  un- 
derstandings of  the  people  on  the  calamities  that  are  ap- 
proaching them  ;  to  enlighten  the  public  mind ;  to  improve 
our  moral  feelings ;  to  breathe  around  you  an  elevated 
spirit ;  to  fortify  as  many  hearts  as  possible  with  the  gene- 
rous purpose,  to  do  all  which  men  can  do  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  their  country.  You  should  labour,  not  to  excite  a 
temporary  paroxysm,  for  the  danger  is  not  to  be  repelled 
by  a  few  impassioned  efforts.  We  want  a  calm  and  solemn 
apprehension  fixed  in  every  mind,  that  we  have  every  thing 
at  stake — that  great  sacrifices  are  to  be  expected,  but  that 
the  evils  are  so  tremendous  as  to  justify  and  require  every 
sacrifice.  We  want  to  have  a  general  impression  made  of 
the  character,  spirit,  designs,  power,  and  acts  of  France ; — 
of  the  unparalleled  wretchedness,  the  political,  moral,  and 
religious  debasement,  attendant  on  union  with  her,  or  on 
subjection  to  her  power.  To  effect  this  end,  I  have  said 
that  new  exertions  should  be  made.  The  common 
vehicles  of  political  information  have  done,  and  may  do, 
much;  but  cannot  do  all  which  is  required.  Authentic 
publications  in  the  names  of  our  wisest,  purest,  most  vene- 
rated citizens  should  be  spread  abroad,  containing  the 
plain,  unexaggerated,  uncoloured  history  of  the  revolution 
and  domination  of  France. 

"  It  may  be  said  that  the  people  have  all  the  evidence 
on  this  subject  already  communicated  to  them.     I  fear 


NAPOLEON  AND  FRANCE.  339 

that  many  have  not  received  sufficiently  distinct  and  con- 
nected information  from  sources  on  which  they  rely ;  and 
I  am  confident  that  many  who  know  the  truth  need  to  have 
the  convictions  of  their  understandings  converted  into  ac- 
tive principles,  into  convictions  of  the  heart.  I  fear  there 
are  many  who  are  blinded  to  the  true  character  of  the  con- 
queror of  Europe,  by  the  splendour  of  his  victories  ;  many 
who  attach  to  him  the  noble  qualities  which  have  been  dis- 
played by  other  heroes,  and  who  repose  a  secret  hope  in 
his  clemency.  They  ought  to  know,  and  they  might  know, 
that  he  has  risen  to  power  in  a  revolution  which  has  had  a 
peculiar  influence  in  hardening  the  heart ;  that  his  charac- 
ter is  unillumined  by  one  ray  of  beneficence ;  that  he  is 
dark,  vindictive,  unrelenting ;  that  no  man  loves  him,  that 
he  cares  for  no  man's  love  ;  that  he  asks  only  to  be  feared, 
and  that  fear  and  horror  are  the  only  sentiments  he  ought 
to  inspire. 

"  I  fear  there  are  many  who  attach  ideas  of  happiness 
and  glory  to  France,  because  they  hear  of  the  conquests  of 
French  armies ;  and  I  fear  that  this  impression  reconciles 
them  to  the  thought  of  union  with  her.  They  might  know, 
and  they  ought  to  know,  that  France  is  drinking  even  to  the 
dregs,  that  cup  of  sorrow  which  she  has  mingled  for  other 
nations.  They  should  be  taught  that  she  is  most  degraded 
in  her  moral  and  religious  condition,  and  wretchedly  im- 
poverished ;  that  her  agriculture,  her  manufactures,  her 
commercial  cities,  are  falling  to  decay  ;  that  she  is  ground 
with  oppressive  taxes,  most  oppressively  collected ;  that 
her  youth  are  torn  from  their  families  to  fill  up  the  con- 
stant ravages  which  war  and  disease  are  making  in  her 
armies ;  that,  with  all  her  sufferings,  she  is  not  permitted 
the  poor  privilege  of  complaining ;  that  her  cities,  villages, 
and  houses  are  thronged  with  spies  to  catch  and  report  the 
murmurs  of  disaffection.  In  a  word,  the  people  might  and 
should  be  taught,  that  social  confidence,  public  spirit,  en- 

VOL.    I.  Q 


340  SPIRITUAL   GROWTH. 

terprise,  cheerful  industry,  and  moral  and  religious  excel- 
lence have  almost  forsaken  that  unhappy  country. 

"  On  these  topics,  and  on  many  others  which  would  illus- 
trate the  character  and  tendency  of  the  French  domination, 
might  not  conviction  be  carried  to  some  minds  at  least, 
and  might  not  many  sluggish  minds  be  awakened,  if  per- 
severing, steady  efforts  were  made  by  men  whose  charac- 
ters would  be  pledges  of  their  veracity  and  disinterested- 
ness ?  Sudden  effects  might  not  be  produced,  and  per- 
haps sudden  effects  are  not  to  be  desired.  We  do  not 
want  a  temporary,  evanescent  ardour,  excited  for  partial 
purposes  and  local  objects.  We  want  a  rational  con viction 
of  their  great  danger  fastened  on  the  people,  and  a  steady 
and  generous  purpose  to  resist  it  by  every  means  which 
Providence  has  put  within  their  power.  Let  me  entreat 
all  who  are  interested  in  this  great  object,  the  improve- 
ment and  elevation  of  public  sentiment,  to  adhere  to  such 
means  only  as  are  worthy  that  great  end  ;  to  suppress  and 
condemn  appeals  to  unworthy  passions,  misrepresentation, 
and  that  abuse  which  depraves  public  taste  and  sentiment, 
and  makes  a  man  of  a  pure  mind  ashamed  of  the  cause 
which  he  feels  himself  bound  to  support.  Let  me  also 
urge  you  to  check  the  feelings  and  the  expressions  of  ma- 
lignity and  revenge.  Curses,  denunciations,  and  angry 
invectives  are  not  the  language  of  that  spirit  to  which  I 
look  for  the  safety  of  our  country.  We  ought  to  know 
that  the  malignant  passions  of  a  people  are  among  the 
powerful  instruments  by  which  the  enemy  binds  them  to 
his  yoke.  The  patriotism  which  we  need  is  a  benevolent, 
generous,  forbearing  spirit ;  too  much  engrossed  with  the 
public  welfare  to  be  stung  by  personal  opposition ;  calm 
and  patient  in  exhibiting  the  truth,  and  tolerant  towards 
those  who  cannot,  or  who  will  not,  receive  it.  Let  me 
repeat  it;  the  end  we  should  propose,  the  elevation  of 
public  sentiment  and  feeling,  is  not  to  be  secured  by  vio- 


CHRISTIANITY   OUR  SAFEGUARD.  341 

lence  or  passion,  but  by  truth  from  tbe  hearts  and  lips 
and  pens  of  men  whose  lives  and  characters  give  it  energy. 

"  But  as  the  most  effectual  method  of  exalting  the  views, 
purposes,  and  character  of  our  nation,  let  me  entreat  you 
who  are  lovers  of  your  country  to  labour  with  all  your 
power  to  diffuse  the  faith  and  practice  of  the  gospel  of 
Christ.  The  prevalence  of  true  Christianity  is  the  best 
defence  of  a  nation,  especially  at  this  solemn  and  eventful 
period.  It  will  secure  to  us  the  blessing  of  Almighty 
God  ;  and  it  will  operate  more  powerfully  than  any  other 
cause  in  making  us  recoil  from  the  embrace  of  France. 
No  greater  repugnance  can  be  conceived  than  what  subsists 
between  the  mild,  humane,  peaceful,  righteous,  and  devout 
spirit  of  the  gospel,  and  the  impious,  aspiring,  and  rapa- 
cious spirit  of  this  new  nation.  Christianity  will,  indeed, 
exclude  from  our  breasts  all  feelings  of  ill-will,  malice, 
and  revenge  towards  France  and  her  sovereign  ;  for  these 
are  feelings  which  it  never  tolerates.  But  it  will  inspire 
a  holy  abhorrence  of  her  spirit  and  designs,  and  will  make 
us  shudder  at  the  thought  of  sinking  under  her  power,  or 
aiding  her  success. 

"  But  it  becomes  us  to  promote  Christianity,  not  only 
because  it  will  help  to  save  our  country.  We  should  cherish 
and  diffuse  it,  because  it  will  be  a  refuge  and  consolation, 
even  should  our  country  fall ;  a  support  which  the  oppressor 
cannot  take  from  us.  The  sincere  Christian  is  not  com- 
fortless, even  in  the  darkest  and  most  degenerate  times. 
He  knows  that  oppressive  power  is  but  for  a  moment ;  and 
his  benevolence  is  animated  by  the  promise  of  God,  that, 
even  in  this  world,  this  scene  of  cruelty  and  wretchedness, 
there  will  yet  be  enjoyed  the  reign  of  peace,  of  truth,  and 
holiness  under  the  benignant  Saviour." 

EXTRACTS  FROM  A  SERMON  PREACHED  IN  BOSTON,  JULY 
23,  1812,  THE  DAT  OF  THE  PoBLIC  FAST  APPOINTED  BY 

Q  2 


342  SPIRITUAL  GROWTH. 

THE  EXECUTIVE  OF  THE  COMMONWEALTH  OF  MASSACHU- 
SETTS, IN  CONSEQUENCE  OF  THE  DECLABATION  OF  WAR 

AGAINST  GREAT  BRITAIN.  "  That  we  have  received  no 
injuries  from  the  nation  we  have  selected  as  our  enemy  I 
do  not  say;  but  when  I  consider  the  conduct  of  our  own 
government  in  relation  to  the  two  belligerents — the  par- 
tiality and  timid  submission  they  have  expressed  towards 
the  one,  the  cause  of  suspicion  they  have  given  to  the 
other — and  the  spirit  in  which  they  have  sought  repara- 
tion from  England,  I  am  unable  to  justify  the  war  in  which 
we  have  engaged.  To  render  the  war  justifiable,  it  is  not 
enough  that  we  have  received  injuries  ; — we  must  ask  our- 
selves, Have  we  done  our  duty  to  the  nation  of  which  we 
complain  ?  have  we  taken  and  kept  a  strictly  impartial 
position  towards  her  and  her  enemy  ?  have  we  not  sub- 
mitted to  outrages  from  her  enemy  by  which  he  has  ac- 
quired advantages  in  the  war  ?  have  we  sought  reparation 
of  injuries  in  a  truly  pacific  spirit  ?  have  we  insisted  only 
on  undoubted  rights  ?  have  we  demanded  no  unreasonable 
concessions?  These  questions  must  be  answered  before 
we  decide  on  the  character  of  the  war — and  I  fear  the 

answer  must    be  against  us If  we  have  rushed 

into  it  when  we  might  have  avoided  it  by  an  impartial  and 
pacific  course,  then  we  have  wantonly  and  by  our  own  fault 
drawn  on  ourselves  its  privations  and  calamities.  Our  ene- 
my may,  indeed,  divide  the  guilt  with  us ;  but  on  ourselves, 
as  truly  as  on  our  enemy,  falls  the  heavy  guilt  of  spreading 
tumult,  slaughter,  and  misery  through  the  family  of  God. 

"  If  on  the  ground  of  right  and  justice  this  war  cannot 
be  defended,  what  shall  we  say  when  we  come  to  consider 
its  expediency,  its  effects  on  ourselves  and  the  world  ?  It 
is  a  war  fraught  with  ruin  to  our  property,  our  morals,  our 
religion,  our  independence,  our  dearest  rights — whilst  its 
influence  on  other  nations,  on  the  common  cause  of  human- 
ity, is  most  unhappy 


DEMORALIZING    INFLUENCES.  343 

"  This  war  is  a  death-blow  to  our  commerce.  The 
ocean,  which  nature  has  spread  before  us  as  the  field  of  our 
enterprise  and  activity,  and  from  which  we  have  reaped  the 
harvest  of  our  prosperity,  is,  in  effect,  forbidden  us.  Our 
ships  and  superfluous  produce  are  to  perish  on  our  hands — 
our  capital  to  waste  away  in  unproductive  inactivity — our 
intercourse  with  all  foreign  nations  is  broken  off,  and  the 
nation  with  which  we  sustained  the  most  profitable  inter- 
course is  our  foe.  Need  I  tell  you  the  distress  which  this 
war  must  spread  through  the  commercial  classes  of  society, 
and  among  all  whose  occupations  are  connected  with  com- 
merce ?  How  many  are  there  from  whom  the  hard  earnings 
of  years  are  to  be  wrested  by  this  war,  whose  active  pursuits 
and  cheering  prospects  of  future  comfort  are  exchanged  for 
discouragement,  solicitude,  and  approaching  want ! 

"  Tn  addition  to  this,  as  our  resources  are  decreasing,  the 
public  burdens  are  growing  heavier ;  and  government,  after 
paralyzing  our  industry  and  closing  the  channels  of  our 
wealth,  are  about  to  call  on  us  for  new  contributions  to 
support  the  war  under  which  we  are  sinking.  And,  to  fill 
up  the  measure  of  injury,  we  are  told  that  this  war,  so  fatal 
to  commerce,  so  dreaded  by  the  friends  of  commerce,  is 
carried  on  for  its  protection.  We  are  required  to  believe, 
that  restriction  and  war,  the  measures  which  have  drained 
away  the  life-blood  of  our  prosperity,  are  designed  to  secure 
our  rights  on  the  ocean. 

"  But  loss  of  property  is  a  small  evil  attending  this  war — 
its  effect  on  our  character  cannot  be  calculated.  I  need  not 
tell  you  the  moral  influence  of  a  war  which  is  bringing  to  a 
gloomy  pause  the  activity  of  the  community — which  is  to 
fill  our  streets  with  labourers  destitute  of  employment — 
which  is  to  reduce  our  young  men  to  idleness — which  will 
compel  a  large  portion  of  the  community  to  esteem  their 
own  government  their  worst  enemy.  Regular  industry  is 
the  parent  of  sobriety,  and  givfes  strength  to  all  the  virtues. 


344  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

A  community  must  be  corrupted  in  proportion  as  idleness, 
discontent,  and  want  prevail.  We  have  reason  to  fear  that 
these  temptations  will  prove  too  strong  for  the  virtue  of 
common  minds — that,  with  the  decline  of  commerce,  the 
sense  of  honour  and  uprightness  in  pecuniary  transactions 
will  decline — that  fair  dealing  will  be  succeeded  by  fraud — 
that  civil  laws  will  be  treated  with  contempt — that  habits 
of  dissoluteness  and  intemperance,  already  too  common, 
will  be  awfully  multiplied — that  our  young  men,  thrown 
out  of  employment,  and  having  no  field  for  their  restless 
activity  and  ardent  hopes,  will  give  themselves  up  to  lawless 
pleasure  or  immoral  pursuits. 

"  Let  me  here  mention  one  pursuit  which  this  war  will 
encourage,  and  which  will  operate  very  unhappily  on  our 
character.  I  have  said  that  the  ocean  will  be  abandoned. 
I  mistake;--  the  merchant-vessel  will  indeed  forsake  it,  but 
the  privateer  will  take  her  place.  The  ocean  is  no  longer 
to  be  the  field  of  useful  and  honest  enterprise.  We  are  no 
longer  to  traverse  it  that  we  may  scatter  through  the  world 
the  bounties  of  Providence.  Henceforth  plunder — plunder 
is  our  only  object.  We  are  to  issue  from  our  ports,  not  to 
meet  the  armed  ship  of  our  enemy — not  to  break  her  naval 
power — not  to  wage  a  war  for  public  purposes;  but  we 
shall  go  forth  to  meet  the  defenceless  private  merchant, 
and,  with  our  sword  at  his  breast,  we  are  to  demand  his 
property,  and  to  enrich  ourselves  with  his  spoils.  This 
pursuit  is,  indeed,  allowed  by  the  law  of  nations ;  but 
Christians,  and  the  friends  to  public  morals,  must  dread 
and  abhor  it,  as  peculiarly  calculated  to  stamp  on  a  people 
the  character  of  rapacity  and  hardness  of  heart.  Yet  this 
is  the  pursuit,  this  the  character,  in  which  Americans  are 
henceforth  to  be  found  on  the  ocean. 

"  But  all  the  ruinous  effects  of  this  war  are  not  yet 
unfolded.  To  see  it  in  its  true  character,  we  must  consider 
against  what  nation  it  is  waged,  and  with  what  nation  it  is 


ENGLAND  AND  FRANCE.  345 

connecting  us.  We  have  selected  for  our  enemy  the  nation 
from  which  we  sprang,  and  which  has  long  afforded  and 
still  offers  us  a  friendly  and  profitable  intercourse—  a  nation 
which  has  been  for  ages  the  stronghold  of  Protestant 
Christianity — which  every  where  exhibits  temples  of  re- 
ligion, institutions  of  benevolence,  nurseries  of  science, 
the  aids  and  means  of  human  improvement — a  nation 
which,  with  all  the  corruptions  of  her  government,  still 
enjoys  many  of  the  best  blessings  of  civil  liberty,  and 
which  is  now  contending  for  her  own  independence,  and  for 
the  independence  of  other  nations,  against  the  oppressor  of 
mankind.  When  I  view  my  country  taking  part  with  the 
oppressor  against  that  nation  which  has  alone  arrested  his 
proud  career  of  victory — which  is  now  spreading  her  shield 
over  desolated  Portugal  and  Spain — which  is  the  chief  hope 
of  the  civilized  world  —  I  blush — I  mourn.  We  are  linking 
ourselves  with  the  acknowledged  enemy  of  mankind — 

with   a  government which  has   left  not  a  vestige   of 

liberty  where  it  has  extended  its  blasting  sway — which  is 
at  this  moment  ravaging  nations  that  are  chargeable  with 
no  crime  but  hatred  of  a  foreign  yoke.  Into  contact  and 
communion  with  this  bloody  nation  we  are  brought  by  this 
war — and  what  can  we  gain  by  building  up  its  power? 
On  this  subject  too  much  plainness  cannot  be  used.  Let 
our  government  know  that  we  deem  alliance  with  France 
the  worst  of  evils,  threatening  at  once  our  morals,  our 
liberty,  and  our  religion."* 

*  The  reader  who  wishes  to  learn  more  fully  Mr.  Channing's  views 
at  this  eventful  period  is  referred  to  the  remarks  on  the  "  Duties  of 
the  Citizen  in  Times  of  Trial  and  Danger."  Works,  vol.  v.,  pp. 
411-421. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

EVENTS  were  now  about  to  summon  Mr.  Channing 
from  the  quiet  scenes  in  which  he  was  earnestly  seeking 
a  religious  life,  to  take  an  active  though  unwilling  part 
in  the  Unitarian  controversy ;  and  any  one  who  wishes 
to  understand  aright  his  relations  to  this  movement 
should  cast  a  glance  backward,  and  note  the  progress 
of  the  different  influences  which  then  met  to  intermingle 
in  unpleasant  but  inevitable  conflict.  If  with  a 
catholic  and  not  sectarian  temper  we  survey  the  eccle- 
siastical history  of  New  England,  we  cannot  fail  to 
see,  that  in  this  commotion  of  the  spiritual  world,  as  in 
those  which  disturb  the  atmosphere,  the  elements  were 
but  seeking  equilibrium,  and  that  modes  of  thought 
and  feeling  which  at  first  seem  to  run  most  counter  to 
each  other  were  really  different  cloud- currents  of  one 
storm.  Certainly  the  candid  of  all  parties  must  admit, 
that,  by  means  of  this  agitation,  the  heaven  of  piety 
has  become  more  clear,  the  air  of  thought  more  fresh, 
the  earth  of  charity  more  green. 

From  the  middle  of  the  last  century  onwards,  three 
distinct  tendencies  may  be  traced  in  the  minds  of  the 
Christians  of  this  country,  and,  indeed,  of  Europe  also. 
The  first  is  Spiritualism,  devoutly  longing  for  a  near 
communion  with  the  Infinite  Being  and  the  Heavenly 


HOLINESS,    TRUTH,    HUMANITY.  347 

world,  manifesting  itself  in  various  forms  of  enthusiasm, 
and  desiring  universal  sanctification.  The  second  is 
Philanthropy,  demanding  a  thorough  application  of  the 
law  of  love  to  all  the  actual  relations  and  practical 
concerns  of  life,  and  animating  men  to  an  unprecedented 
zeal  in  moral  and  social  reforms.  The  third  is  Free 
Inquiry,  seeking  a  harmony  between  religion,  philo- 
sophy, and  experience — between  revelation,  reason, 
and  common-sense — and  aiming  to  give  such  a  view  of 
man's  destiny  upon  earth  as  shall  do  justice  to  nature, 
to  history,  and  to  Divine  Order.  With  what  was  good 
in  each  of  these  tendencies  Mr.  Channing  sympathized 
and  co-operated,  while  from  the  extravagances  of  each 
he  sought  to  guard  himself  and  others ;  and  the 
sincere  student  of  his  writings  cannot  but  observe  with 
admiration  the  calm  consistency  with  which  he  twined 
his  threefold  cord  of  existence.  He  was  from  original 
impulse,  by  method,  and  in  action,  complex,  and  not 
simple,  always  reconciling  differences  by  a  living 
synthesis,  averse  to  every  kind  of  partisanship,  and 
each  year  becoming  more  liberal,  various,  expansive, 
well  balanced.  The  appropriate  motto  of  his  life  is 
HOLINESS,  TRUTH,  HUMANITY. 

Extracts  from  letters,  manuscripts,  and  publications 
at  this  period  will  sufficiently  indicate  Mr.  Channing's 
position.  They  are  suitably  introduced  by  one  in 
which,  at  the  very  close  of  his  career,  he  has  himself 
reviewed  the  way  whereby  Providence  had  led  him  up 
to  peace. 

"  February,  1840. 

"  I  read  your  communication  with  much  sympathy.  In- 
deed, it  carried  me  back  to  the  earlier  stages  of  my  own 

Q  3 


348  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

religious  history.  Not  that  I  have  ever  suffered  as  you 
have  done ;  hut  no  person  can  think  on  the  subject  of  re- 
ligion without  encountering  difficulties.  Most  people  owe 
their  freedom  from  doubts  to  the  absence  of  thought.  As 
soon  as  we  begin  to  reflect,  we  are  compelled  to  call  in 
question  a  part  of  our  traditionary  faith ;  and  the  shaking 
of  a  part  sometimes  makes  us  tremble  for  the  whole.  I 
have  spent  years  of  earnest,  anxious  search  for  the  truth  ; 
nor  do  I  repent  of  my  toil.  All  my  toil  and  solicitude 
vanish,  when  I  think  of  the  calm  faith,  the  enlargement  of 
views  and  hopes,  in  which  they  have  issued. 

"  You  wish  to  know  the  history  of  my  mind,  but  it  would 
fill  a  volume.  My  inquiries  grew  out  of  the  shock  given  to 
my  moral  nature  by  the  popular  system  of  faith  which  I 
found  prevailing  round  me  in  my  early  years.  All  my 
convictions  of  justice  and  goodness  revolted  against  the 
merciless  dogmas  then  commonly  taught.  I  went  to  the 
Scriptures,  and  the  blessed  light  gradually  beamed  on  me 
from  the  word  of  God.  I  soon  learned  the  great  end  for 
which  Christ  came  into  the  world — that  his  first,  highest 
purpose  was,  not  to  deliver  us  from  punishment,  but  from 
that  which  deserves  punishment,  from  moral  evil,  from  every 
impurity  of  heart  and  life,  from  whatever  separates  us  from 
God ;  that  he  came  to  exert  a  moral,  spiritual  influence,  by 
which  man  was  to  become  a  pure,  disinterested,  excellent 
being.  I  soon  learned  that  heaven  and  hell  belong  to  the 
mind,  that '  the  fire  and  the  worm '  have  their  seat  in  the  soul, 
and  that  we  can  attain  to  the  happiness,  only  by  drinking 
into  the  spirit,  of  heaven.  In  other  words,  I  learned  that 
'  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  within  us ' — that  Christianity  is 
eminently  a  spiritual  system,  or  intended  chiefly  to  redeem 
the  mind  from  evil — that  we  understand  its  records  only 
when  we  interpret  them  according  to  this  principle.  One 
great  truth  came  out  to  my  apprehension  more  and  more 
strongly.  I  felt,  I  saw,  that  God  is  most  willing  to  impart 


STANDARD    OF   TRUTH.  349 

his  '  Holy  Spirit,'  his  strength  and  light,  to  every  man  who 
labours  in  earnest  to  overcome  evil,  to  press  forward  to  that 
perfection  which  is  the  only  heaven.  You  will  easily  see 
how  these  views  scattered  all  the  darkness  into  which  I  had 

been  plunged  by  a  false,  traditionary  faith 

"  I  beg  you  to  feel  that  I  sympathize  with  you  in  your 
trials.  I  can  say  for  your  encouragement,  that  the  noblest 
human  beings  have  sometimes  passed  through  similar  ones, 
and  have  emerged  into  the  light  of  a  calm  and  happy  faith. 
Be  not  anxious  to  make  up  your  mind  in  a  moment.  Be 
assured  that  God,  the  good,  the  just,  cannot  demand  of 
you  assent  to  what  shocks  your  best  feelings.  Inquire  as 
you  have  opportunity.  Seek  light  from  above.  Especially 
be  faithful  to  your  convictions  of  duty,  and  live  up  to  the 
light  you  already  have,  and  I  am  confident  that  your  diffi- 
culties, as  far  as  they  are  mental,  will  give  way." 

TO    THE    HON.    WILLIAM    ELLEBT. 

"Boston,  March,  1806. 

"  DEAR  AND  HONODKED  SIR, — You  will  see  from 

this  that  our  standard  of  divinity  does  not  entirely  corre- 
spond with  yours.  It  is  clear  that  we  cannot  all  be  right. 
The  great  question,  then,  offers  itself,  '  Whether  any  de» 
viate  so  far  from  truth  as  to  be  disqualified  for  receiving 
the  blessings  of  the  gospel,  or  whether  any  of  the  errors  of 
the  day  necessarily  imply  a  temper  opposed  to  the  spirit  of 
the  gospel.' 

"  It  seems  to  be  universally  granted,  that  the  state  of 
the  heart  and  affections  is  the  great  point  by  which  a 
Christian  is  to  be  judged ;  and  that  sentiments  are  no  far- 
ther important  than  as  they  involve,  imply,  and  cherish  a 
state  of  heart.  Now,  can  we  say  of  the  common  errors 
which  prevail  in  the  Christian  world,  that  they  cannot 
co-exist  with  a  penitent,  a  pious,  a  benevolent  spirit  ?  Un- 


350  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

less  we  can  prove  a  clear  repugnance  between  certain  sen- 
timents and  the  spirit  of  the  gospel — such  a  repugnance 
as  forces  us  to  conclude  that  he  who  holds  these  sentiments 
cannot  possess  this  spirit — are  we  authorized  to  dsclare 
the  sentiments  damnable  ?  An  essential  doctrine  seems 
to  be  one  which  is  necessary  to  the  existence  of  Christian 
love,  and  is  necessarily  implied  in  this  temper.  I  cannot, 
therefore,  charge  a  man  with  damnable  heresy,  unless  I 
see  that  his  sentiments  prove  an  opposite  temper,  or,  at 
least,  exclude  the  exercises  of  Christian  love.  If  this  be 
just,  are  we  not  called  to  be  cautious  in  judging  of  the 
character,  while  we  freely  criticize  the  opinions  of  others  ? 
May  we  not  love  the  heart,  when  we  think  poorly  of  the 
head,  of  our  neighbour '?  " 

TO   THE    HON.   WILLIAM   ELLERY. 

"Boston,  May,  1806. 

"  DEAR  AND  HONOURED  SIR, — I  thank  you  for  your  letter, 
and  for  the  comment  which  it  contains  upon  our  divinity. 
You  complain  that  our  standard  is  not  particular  enough. 
But  this  is  the  distinguishing  feature  of  our  system  of 
liberality.  The  greater  the  variety  of  sentiments  with 
which  a  system  will  harmonize,  or  the  fewer  its  fundamen- 
tals, the  more  worthy  it  is  of  liberal  minds. 

"  I  conceive  these  to  be  the  leading  principles  of  modern 
divinity  : — '  Practical  righteousness  is  all  in  all,  and  every 
system  which  embraces  motives  enough  to  a  good  practice 
is  sufficiently  correct.  Love  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law  and 
of  the  gospel.  All  truth  is  designed  to  excite  this  temper, 
and  to  form  the  habits  which  flow  from  it,  and  this  is  the 
only  test  which  we  fallible  mortals  can  apply  to  doctrines. 
We  have  reason  to  think  there  are  good  men  in  every  de- 
nomination. Every  sect,  therefore,  embraces  sufficient 
truth  for  the  great  end  of  Christ,  the  attainment  of  ever- 


THE    ONE   THING    NEEDFUL.  351 

lasting  life.  It  does  not  follow  from  this,  that  all  systems 
are  equally  valuable ;  for  some  may  tend  more  to  purify 
the  heart  than  others.  But  we  cannot  be  certain  that  any 
system  is  wholly  inadequate  to  this  all-important  end,  and 
we  must  therefore  condemn  no  man,  unless  his  practice  be 
corrupt.' 

"  The  general  sentiment  which  runs  through  this  sys- 
tem, '  that  the  temper  of  the  heart  is  the  one  thing  need- 
ful in  order  to  acceptance  with  God,'  appears  to  me  Scrip- 
tural. All  sects  acknowledge  that  mere  speculative  assent 
is  of  no  avail,  that  it  is  the  cordial  acceptance  of  the  truth 
which  makes  the  Christian.  If,  then,  the  same  state  of 
heart  can  exist  in  those  who  embrace  different  systems,  I 
should  pronounce  them  equally  acceptable  to  God.  This 
appears  to  me  to  be  the  great  question, — '  Whether  the 
different  systems  embraced  by  professing  Christians  imply 
different  tempers,  principles  of  action,  ends,  and  affections 
in  those  who  embrace  them ;  or,  in  other  words,  whether 
any  of  these  systems  from  their  very  nature  prove  the 
absence  of  the  Christian  spirit  in  those  by  whom  they  are 
supported. ' 

"  We  find  in  the  Scriptures  denunciations  against  those 
who  do  not  believe  in  Christ ;  but  the  reason  seems  to  be 
that  they  who  reject  Christ  prove  and  express  by  this  re- 
jection a  corruption  of  heart.  '  Ye  are  not  of  God,  there- 
fore ye  hear  me  not.'  In  the  same  way  we  must  make  it 
to  appear  that  the  reception  of  a  system  can  flow  only  from 
a  corrupt  heart,  before  we  exclude  those  who  hold  it  from 
Divine  favour.  It  is  not  so  much  the  reception  of  one 
system  or  the  rejection  of  another,  as  the  temper  of  heart 
implied  in  this  reception  or  rejection,  which  affects  a  man's 
acceptance  with  God.  If  this  be  true,  it  seems,  that,  to 
judge  of  the  importance  of  doctrines,  we  must  first  form 
clear  conceptions  of  the  peculiar,  characteristic,  distinguish- 
ing spirit  and  temper  which  the  gospel  requires;  and 


352  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

doctrines  are  to  be  estimated  in  proportion  as  they  are 
necessary  to  this  temper,  are  implied  in  it,  or  flow  from  it. 
"  I  hope  I  have  not  wearied  you  upon  this  subject.  I 
have  lately  occasionally  made  it  the  subject  of  reflection, 
and  from  the  abundance  of  the  head,  as  well  as  the  heart, 
the  mouth  speaketh." 

TO    THE    HON.    WILLIAM    ELLEBY. 

"  Boston,  May,  1807. 

"  DEAR  AND  HONOURED  SIR, — I  conclude  from  your  last 
letter,  that  we  both  agree  in  thinking  that  the  great  effect 
proposed  by  God,  in  the  revelation  he  has  made,  is  the 
sanctification  of  the  hearts  of  mankind,  that  a  certain  state 
of  heart  is  the  end  for  which  God  exhibits  certain  objects 
to  our  view. 

"  You  justly  observe  that  this  sentiment  is  no  ground 
for  indifference  to  truth,  because  the  system  of  doctrines 
contained  in  the  Scriptures  must  have  a  greater  purifying 
tendency  than  any  other.  But  while  we  acknowledge  this, 
and  acknowledge  the  solemn  obligation  which  it  imposes 
to  search  the  Scriptures  with  impartiality  and  zeal,  are  we 
authorized  to  say  that  he  who  in  any  degree  departs  from 
the  system  of  Scripture  must  be  a  stranger  to  their  purify- 
ing influence  ?  Can  we  say  how  much  of  the  Scriptures 
must  be  received  to  constitute  a  man  a  subject  of  the  pro- 
mises of  Christ? 

"  You  ask,  'if  it  is  not  necessary,  in  order  to  the  love  of 
God  and  man,  that  we  should  entertain  just  ideas  of  the 
moral  attributes  of  God,  of  the  depravity  of  man,  of  the 
atonement  of  Christ,  and  of  the  influence  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.'  It  is  certain,  that,  to  love  God,  some  just  ideas 
of  him  must  be  formed.  But  how  little,  after  all,  do  we 
know !  And  may  not  mistakes  with  respect  to  the  moral 
attributes  of  God  consist  with  such  a  spirit  as  he  has  pro- 


PECULIAR   DOCTRINES.  353 

mised  to  bless?  With  respect  to  the  depravity  of  man,  I 
think  it  important  that  it  should  be  most  deeply  and  pain- 
fully felt ;  for  it  is  hard  to  conceive  of  any  rectitude  of 
heart  in  him  who  is  insensible  to  his  transgressions,  and 
it  is  impossible  that  he  should  seek  to  put  away  iniquity 
who  does  not  feel  it  to  be  a  burden.  But  while  I  acknow- 
ledge this,  I  am  by  no  means  ready  to  say  that  no  man 
can  be  a  Christian  who  does  not  believe  in  the  total  de- 
pravity of  human  nature.  A  man  may  doubt  on  that  sub- 
ject, yet  hate  sin.  With  respect  to  the  atonement  of  Christ, 
you  know  that  the  highest  Calvinists  are  very  much  di- 
vided on  this  point.  In  this  State,  and  in  Vermont,  several 
of  the  strictest  of  that  denomination  reject  the  idea  of  vica- 
rious suffering  and  satisfaction,  and  suppose  that  Christ's 
obedience  alone  has  rendered  the  exercise  of  Divine  mercy 
toward  men  consistent  and  glorious.  These  persons  are 
embraced  by  their  brethren  who  hold  the  more  ancient 
doctrine  on  this  point.  Shall  we  say  that  error  on  this 
point  is  fatal  and  irreconcilable  with  love  of  God  and  of 
man  ?  With  respect  to  the  Holy  Spirit,  few  or  none  deny 
its  influences,  but  many  differ  in  explaining  its  mode  of 
operation.  Some  conceive  that  the  Spirit  operates  accord- 
ing to  certain  general  fixed  rules,  that  its  efficiency  is  to 
be  expected  and  sought  in  the  use  of  means,  and  that  God 
has  connected  his  agency  with  means  in  the  spiritual  world 
as  constantly  as  in  the  natural  world.  They  ascribe  all 
their  goodness  to  God,  as  the  only  fountain,  on  the  same 
principle  that  they  ascribe  to  him  all  the  blessings  of  the 
present  state.  May  not  such  men  possess  the  love  of  God 
and  of  their  neighbour? 

"  You  ask  '  whether  the  Holy  Spirit,  in  imparting  holi- 
ness, has  no  regard  to  the  system  of  doctrine  maintained 
by  the  recipient.'  I  answer,  that  the  Divine  Spirit  ope- 
rates by  truth ;  but  can  we  say  what  number  of  proposi- 
tions must  exist  in  the  mind  as  a  preparation  for  those 


354  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

dispositions  which  constitute  the  Christian?  Or  can  we 
say  what  number  of  propositions  will  be  assented  to,  after 
these  dispositions  have  been  produced  ?  In  one  word,  can 
we  draw  up  a  number  of  propositions,  and  declare  that 
assent  to  these  is  necessarily  connected  with  a  Christian 
character,  so  that  the  want  of  such  assent  is  a  proof  that 
this  character  does  not  exist  ?  This  is  the  question  which  I 
wish  to  have  resolved.  There  are  doctrines  which  appear 
to  me  important,  and  suited  to  the  humiliation  and  sancti- 
fication  of  sinful  men.  I  hear  others  oppose  them.  I 
think  these  persons  suffer  by  the  rejection  of  such  im- 
portant truth.  But  they  assent  to  other  truths  of  the 
greatest  magnitude,  and  appear  to  feel  and  live  as  Chris- 
tians. Shall  I  say  to  such, — '  Depart  from  me,  I  cannot 
sit  with  you  at  the  table  of  the  Lord.  You  are  in  the 
bond  of  iniquity  ?  '  Taught  by  experience  to  know  my  own 
blindness,  shall  I  speak  as  if  I  could  not  err,  and  as  if  they 
might  not  in  some  disputed  points  be  more  enlightened 
than  myself  ?  " 

FROM   THE    EEV.    HENRY    CHANNING. 

"  Canandaigua,  February,  27th,  1810. 

" I  perceive  by  your  letter  that  the  denouncing 

spirit  rages  and  is  confident.  Surely  no  dispassionate  man 
can  be  at  a  loss  in  determining  whether  it  proceeds  from 
the  wisdom  from  above  or  from  beneath.  It  seems  they 
denounce  Boston  ministers  as  deists  in  heart  and  almost  in 
profession 

"  You  express  a  wish  that  I  could  be  with  you,  as  the 
time  may  be  near  when  you  will  need  the  advice  of  a 
serious,  experienced  friend.  It  would,  indeed,  be  a  plea- 
sure to  be  so  situated  that  I  could  often  see  you,  and  ren- 
der you  any  aid  in  my  power.  But  I  must  add  that  I  am 
satisfied  that  you  stand  on  the  firmest  ground,  while  you 
'determine  to  maintain  a  good  conscience,'  and  as  far  as 


REV.    DR.    MASON.  355 

possible  '  keep  at  a  distance  from  dissension.'  You  justly 
remark  that '  self-defence  may  oblige  the  most  moderate  to 
take  a  part  in  controversies  which  they  would  willingly 
avoid. '  It  will  be  your  duty  to  be  as  bold  in  asserting  your 
right  of  judging,  and  declaring  your  sentiments,  as  others 
are  in  attempting  to  control  inquiry." 

LETTEBS    TO    FRIENDS. 

"Boston,  February  27th,  1811. 

"  I  was  interested  by  the  account  you  gave  of  the  re- 
ligious services  of  Dr.  Mason.  I  have  heard  him,  and 
know  his  forcible  style  of  conception  and  elocution.  I  can 
only  lament  that  such  powers  are  not  employed  in  recom- 
mending a  purer  and  simpler  form  of  Christianity.  Is  it 
not  an  evidence  of  the  truth  of  Christianity,  that,  distorted 
and  disfigured  as  it  is  by  so  many  sects,  it  still  commands 
assent,  and  retains  its  influence  over  so  many  minds  ?  The 
distinction  between  mysterious  doctrines  and  mysterious 
facts  is  rather  mysterious  to  me.  Do  not  think  that  it  is 
my  wish  to  find  faults  in  one  whom  you  admire.  I  feel 
my  inferiority  to  Dr.  Mason  in  talents  and  acquisitions ; 
but  I  cannot  suffer  even  a  superior  to  strip  my  religion  of 
its  reasonableness,  beauty,  and  simplicity." 

"Boston,  December  24th,  1812. 

"  I  have  received  your  letter  asking  my  advice  on  the 
subject  of  a  profession  of  religion,  and  have  read  it  with 
very  great  satisfaction.  One  of  the  earnest  wishes  of  my 
heart  is  accomplished.  My  friend,  for  whom  I  have  so 
often  feared,  has  consecrated  herself  to  God,  and  is  seeking 
immortality.  I  advise  you  immediately  to  connect  yourself 
by  profession  as  well  as  by  affection  with  the  body  of  be- 
lievers, to  bear  your  testimony  to  the  excellence  of  your 
Saviour,  and  to  the  truth  of  his  religion. 

"  The  rite  of  the  supper,  as  Jesus  has  left  it,  is  as  simple 


356  THE  UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

as  it  is  affecting.  It  is  only  a  memorial,  a  method  of  im- 
pressing the  understanding  and  the  heart.  It  is  designed 
to  confirm  our  faith,  hope,  love,  obedience.  The  nature  of 
the  ordinance  decides  the  qualifications  for  approaching  it. 
Do  you  wish  to  cherish  the  sentiments  which  this  institu- 
tion is  suited  and  designed  to  awaken?  Have  you  that  im- 
pression of  the  truth  and  importance  of  Christianity  which 
will  lead  to  a  serious  and  beneficial  use  of  this  means  of 
improvement  ?  Then  are  you  authorized  to  approach ;  for 
you  the  table  is  spread.  Let  no  apprehension  of  unwor- 
thiness  deter  you.  What  is  there  in  the  view  of  an  affec- 
tionate friend  suffering  for  us  to  repel  and  alarm  us? 
Could  Jesus  Christ  have  placed  himself  before  us  in  a 
character  more  suited  to  give  hope  and  peace  to  a  mind 
conscious  of  its  errors  and  sins  ? 

"I  would  not,  however,  ad  vise  you  to  unite  yourself  with 
any  Christian  Church,  if  you  are  required  to  subscribe  to 
articles  of  the  truth  of  which  you  are  not  fully  persuaded; 
and  I  beg  you  not  to  force  your  mind  into  the  belief  of  any 
principles  which  human  guides  enforce  as  necessary  to 
communion  with  the  faithful.  I  confess  I  have  some  fears 
for  you  on  this  point.  You  are  living,  as  I  think,  in  a  re- 
gion of  many  errors,  and  your  creed,  as  you  formerly  gave 
it  to  me,  is  not  in  my  estimation  altogether  conformed  to 
the  simplicity  and  purity  of  the  gospel.  Your  ears  are 
familiarized  to  sentiments  which  I  cannot  hear  without 
shuddering,  and  which  appear  to  me  more  dishonourable  to 
the  Universal  Father  than  any  error  born  in  the  darkness 
of  Popery.  From  the  acceptance  of  these  your  moral  feel- 
ings have  preserved  you  ;  but  if  you  give  up  the  independ- 
ence and  sincerity  of  your  mind  to  assertion  and  denunci- 
ation, you  know  not  where  you  may  be  carried. 

"  Do  not  think  me  uncharitable,  because  I  speak  so 
freely  of  the  doctrines  of  Calvinism.  I  truly  love  and 
honour  many  by  whom  these  doctrines  are  embraced.  I 


CALVINISM.  357 

cannot  easily  be  a  bigot,  whilst  memory  retains  what  I  have 
recorded  on  one  of  her  fairest  tablets,  and  what  I  delight  to 
recollect, — that  Popery  boasts  of  a  Fenelon,  Massillon, 
Pascal,  &c. ;  Calvinism,  of  the  New  England  Pilgrims,  of 
Cowper,  &c. ;  Arminianism,  of  Barrow,  Tillotson,  Butler, 
&c. ;  and  Unitarianism,  of  Newton,  Watts,  Locke,  S.  Clarke, 
Price,  Lardner,  &c.  So  much  for  theology." 

"  Boston,  December  29th,  1812. 

"  I  have  spent  this  evening  with  our  dear ,  and  she 

put  into  my  hands  your  letter  on  the  subject  of  religion  to 
which  you  referred  in  the  last  which  I  received  from  you. 
I  read  it  with  sorrow.  I  saw  that  your  mind  was  yielding 
to  impressions  which  I  trusted  you  would  repel  with  in- 
stinctive horror.  I  know  that  Calvinism  is  embraced  by 
many  excellent  people ;  but  I  know  that  on  some  minds  it 
has  the  most  mournful  effects,  that  it  spreads  over  them  an 
impenetrable  gloom,  that  it  generates  a  spirit  of  bondage 
and  fear,  that  it  chills  the  best  affections,  that  it  represses 
virtuous  effort,  that  it  sometimes  shakes  the  throne  of  rea- 
son. On  susceptible  minds  the  influence  of  the  system  is 
always  to  be  dreaded.  If  it  be  believed,  I  think  there  is 
ground  for  a  despondence  bordering  on  insanity.  If  I,  and 
my  beloved  friends,  and  my  whole  race,  have  come  from 
the  hands  of  our  Creator  wholly  depraved,  irresistibly  pro- 
pense  to  all  evil  and  averse  to  all  good — if  only  a  portion 
are  chosen  to  escape  from  this  miserable  state,  and  if  the 
rest  are  to  be  consigned  by  the  Being  who  gave  us  our  de- 
praved and  wretched  nature  to  endless  torments  in  inex- 
tinguishable flames — then  I  do  think  that  nothing  remains 
but  to  mourn  in  anguish  of  heart ;  then  existence  is  a 
curse,  and  the  Creator  is 

"  0  my  merciful  Father  !  I  cannot  speak  of  thee  in  the 
language  which  this  system  would  suggest.  No !  thou 
hast  been  too  kind  to  me  to  deserve  this  reproach  from  my 


358  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

lips.  Thou  hast  created  me  to  be  happy ;  thou  callest  me 
to  virtue  and  piety,  because  in  these  consists  my  felicity ; 
and  thou  -wilt  demand  nothing  from  me  but  what  thou 
givest  me  ability  to  perform. 

"  I  see  with  sorrow  that  you  are  beginning  to  depart 
from  the  simple  and  affecting  truths  which  you  once 
cherished.  You  have  become  the  advocate  of  an  'inborn 
corruption  '  which  incapacitates  for  duty,  and  yet  you  think 
man  to  be  responsible.  You  even  seem  to  be  leaning  to 
the  melancholy  doctrine,  that  he  may  be  abandoned  to  end- 
less misery  for  not  experiencing  a  change  of  heart,  over 
which  he  has  little  or  no  control,  and  which  depends  en- 
tirely on  the  will  of  another  being.  Perhaps  I  have  mis- 
taken your  sentiments.  Your  letter  is  written  in  an  ob- 
scure, mystical  style,  very  different  from  what  distinguishes 
your  ordinary  compositions.  Your  conceptions  seem  to  me 
loose,  unsettled,  undefined ;  but,  as  far  as  they  have  form 
or  substance,  they  are  melancholy  and  forbidding.  I  am 
also  deeply  grieved  to  find  you  talking  about  persons,  who 
call  themselves  Christians,  and  who  believe  this  or  that 
doctrine.  My  dear  friend,  let  me  beseech  you  to  resist  the 
bitter,  censorious  spirit  which  like  a  wasting  pestilence  has 
infected  the  air  you  breathe.  Let  us  never  forget  how 
many  purer  and  wiser  minds  than  ours  have  viewed  Chris- 
tianity under  forms  and  aspects  very  different  from  those 
which  this  religion  has  presented  to  us. 

"  You  talk  of  some  persons  who  hope  to  be  saved,  '  partly 
by  their  own  merits  and  partly  by  Christ's.'  I  confess  I 
have  not  met  with  this  description  of  Christians ;  but  I 
can  easily  conceive  that  men  whose  heads  are  thus  con- 
fused may  still  have  very  good  affections.  I  do  know 
Christians  whose  hope  rests  on  the  infinite,  essential,  un- 
merited, and  unpurchased  mercy  of  God,  who  think  that  the 
freedom  and  glory  of  this  mercy  are  diminished  by  that 
system  which  represents  it  as  excited  or  produced  by  the 


REV.    NOAH  WORCESTER.  359 

merits  or  vicarious  sufferings  of  another  being,  and  who 
therefore  dislike  that  unscriptural  phrase  '  the  merits  of 
Christ,'  and  the  common,  and  as  they  think  unsupported, 
explications  of  the  atonement.  Such  Christians,  who  say 
nothing  about  their  own  worth,  and  whose  fear  is  that  they 
may  throw  a  stain  on  the  essential  mercy  and  placability 
of  the  Father,  do  not  seem  to  me  to  err  in  affections,  even 
though  they  may  in  sentiment ;  and  I  have  found  among 
them  some  of  the  most  pious  and  disinterested  of  human 
beings. 

"  Your  sweeping  conclusion  about  those  '  who  do  not 
think  the  Son  equal  to  the  Father '  astonished  me  still 
more.  Can  you  be  ignorant  of  the  scruples  of  the  best 
minds  on  this  darkest  of  all  doctrines,  of  the  great  number 
of  learned  and  excellent  men  who  have  rejected  it,  and  of 
the  many  passages  of  Scripture  which  seem  to  contradict  it, 
and  which  may  decide  a  man's  opinions  whose  heart  is 
devoted  to  God  and  truth?  Let  me  ask  you  to  read  a 
popular  work  on  this  subject,  Worcester's  Bible  News,  not 
so  much  with  the  hope  that  it  may  influence  your  judgment, 
as  that  it  may  teach  you  respect  for  those  who  differ  from 
you.  Locke's  Reasonableness  of  Christianity,  also,  will 
give  you  some  valuable  ideas  on  the  nature  of  faith,  a  sub- 
ject which  seems  to  you  very  obscure,  and  which  Calvinism 
wraps  in  tenfold  darkness. 

"  My  good  friend,  if  I  know  myself,  I  have  no  proselyting 
zeal  about  me.  I  wish  only  to  aid  you  in  recovering  the 
freedom  and  independence  of  your  mind,  in  order  that  you 

may  think  with  calmness  and  deliberation 

"Your  sincere  friend." 

TO    THE    REV.    NOAH   WORCESTER. 

"Boston,  January  llth,  1813. 

"  DEAR  SIR, — I  have  long  known  you  by  your  writings, 
and  have  long  wished  to  express  my  gratitude  to  you  for 


300  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

the  service  you  have  rendered  to  the  cause  of  truth  and 
free  inquiry.     But  a  variety  of  occupations  have  prevented. 

"  I  am  now  led  to  write  you  in  consequence  of  the  wishes 
of  many  in  this  quarter  to  establish  a  work  *,  in  which  your 
aid  will  be  very  important.  It  has  long  been  the  opinion 
of  many  friends  of  Scriptural  truth,  that  we  need  a  periodi- 
cal publication  which  shall  be  adapted  to  the  great  mass  of 
Christians,  and  the  object  of  which  shall  be  to  increase 
their  zeal  and  seriousness,  to  direct  their  attention  to  the 
Scriptures,  to  furnish  them  with  that  degree  of  Biblical 
criticism  which  they  are  capable  of  receiving  and  applying, 
to  illustrate  obscure  and  perverted  passages,  and  though 
last  not  least,  to  teach  them  their  Christian  rights,  to 
awaken  a  zealous  attachment  to  Christian  liberty,  to 
show  them  the  ground  of  Congregationalism,  and  to  guard 
them  against  every  enemy  who  would  bring  them  into 
bondage. 

"  Our  conviction  of  the  importance  of  this  work  has  been 
strengthened  by  the  appearance  of  a  publication  in  The 
Panoplist,  recommending  the  immediate  erection  of  eccle- 
siastical tribunals.  After  conversing  about  the  best  means 
of  attaining  the  end  above  described,  the  general  question 
was,  '  To  whom  shall  we  commit  the  superintendence  of 
such  a  periodical  ? '  and  we  unanimously  concurred  in  the 
opinion  that  you  are  peculiarly  fitted  for  the  office  of  editing 
it 

"  You  may  expect  aid  from  gentlemen  in  this  town  and 
vicinity.  With  the  sentiments  of  these  gentlemen  you  are 
generally  acquainted.  They  are  not  precisely  agreed  as 
to  the  person  or  dignity  of  Christ,  nor  do  they  wish  that 
the  work  should  be  devoted  to  any  particular  view  of  that 
subject.  Whilst  they  are  willing  to  admit  the  arguments 
of  all  sects,  they  wish  chiefly  to  exhibit  those  relations 
and  offices  of  Christ  which  Christians  generally  acknow- 

*  The  Christian  Disciple. 


CONVERSION.  361 

ledge,  and  to  promote  a  spirit  of  forbearance  and  charity 
among  those  who  differ  in  relation  to  this  and  other  diffi- 
cult subjects.  As  to  the  peculiarities  of  Calvinism,  we  are 
opposed  to  them,  without  censuring  those  who  embrace 
those  sentiments.  We  are  opposed  to  that  system  parti- 
cularly, inasmuch  as  it  prostrates  the  independence  of  the 
mind,  teaches  men  that  they  are  naturally  incapable  of  dis- 
cerning religious  truth,  generates  a  timid,  superstitious 
dependence  on  those  who  profess  to  have  been  brought 
from  darkness  into  light,  and  so  commonly  infuses  into  its 
professors  a  censorious  and  uncharitable  spirit. 

"  You  will  do  us  the  justice  to  believe,  that  in  this  busi- 
ness we  are  not  actuated  by  the  spirit  of  partisans.  We 
have  long  given  proof  of  our  aversion  to  contention  by 
bearing  patiently  and  silently  the  most  grave  misrepre- 
sentations of  our  characters  and  sentiments.  We  have  no 
desire  to  diffuse  any  religious  peculiarities.  Our  great  de- 
sire is  to  preserve  our  fellow-Christians  from  the  systematic 
and  unwearied  efforts  which  are  making  to  impose  on  them 
a  human  creed,  arid  to  infuse  into  them  angry  and  bitter  feel- 
ings towards  those  who  differ  from  them.  Our  great  desire 
is  to  direct  men  to  the  Word  of  God,  and  to  awaken  in 
those  Christians  who  receive  this  as  their  only  standard  a 
more  devout,  serious,  earnest,  and  affectionate  piety  than 
they  often  discover." 

"  Boston,  April  28th,  1815. 

"  MY.  DEAR ,  I  received  your  letter  of  the  21st,  and 

thank  you  for  the  confidence  in  me  which  it  discovers.  I 
am  very  much  interested  in  the  subject  of  it,  and  wish  to 
see  as  far  as  possible  the  operation  of  religious  sentiments 
in  the  hearts  of  others.  Your  simplicity  of  character  is  a 
proof  that  I  have  received  a  tolerably  faithful  picture  of 
your  feelings.  I  attach  vastly  less  importance  to  what  you 
have  experienced  than  you  do  yourself;  but  God's  provi- 
dence frequently  makes  our  weaknesses  and  sufferings  the 


362  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

means  of  our  improvement;  and  I  hope  that  your  cha- 
racter will  be  purified,  and  your  purposes  of  obedience  con- 
firmed by  terrors  and  emotions  which  seem  to  me  to  imply 
no  supernatural  agency. 

"  Religion,  in  my  view  of  it,  belongs  to  man  as  a  rational 
and  moral  being.  It  consists  of  affections,  dispositions, 
and  habits  voluntarily  cherished,  and  especially  founded  on 
just  and  amiable  views  of  God.  The  religion  which  you  de- 
scribe seems  to  me  a  tumult  of  the  soul,  an  involuntary 
impulse,  a  triumph  of  the  passions  over  reason.  I  think 
that  I  respect  religion  too  much  to  believe  that  it  com- 
monly springs  up  amidst  such  disorders,  and,  I  may  almost 
say,  ruins,  of  the  rational  nature.  You  seem  to  me  to  have 
yielded  yourself  up  to  terror,  not  remembering  that  this 
passion,  like  every  other,  needs  restraint,  and  that  no  pas 
sion  is  so  apt  to  pass  its  bounds  and  to  disorder  the  mind. 
The  worst  superstitions  of  the  heathens  originated  in 
terror,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  to  this  the  worst  corrup- 
tions of  Christianity  are  to  be  traced.  You  will  grant,  my 
young  friend,  that,  whilst  your  mind  was  so  powerfully  ex- 
cited by  fear,  you  were  not  in  the  best  frame  for  judging 
correctly  of  any  religious  truths.  If  you  have  ever  seen  a 
man  under  the  influence  of  a  panic,  you  will  recollect  that 
he  was  in  a  measure  insane,  and  capable  of  being  led  any- 
where by  a  firmer  mind.  All  strong  passion  has  the  effect 
of  insanity  on  the  judgment,  and  makes  a  man  a  very  dif- 
ferent being  from  what  he  is  in  his  cooler  hours. 

"  You  will  permit  me  in  all  frankness  to  say  to  you,  that 
I  see  much  of  human  weakness  and  timidity  in  your  de- 
scription of  your  state  before  you  received  comfort,  a  weak- 
ness not  peculiar  to  yourself,  but  at  some  periods  of  life 
experienced  by  almost  every  human  being.  In  fact,  we 
are  all  in  some  measure  children  to  the  end  of  life,  with- 
out firmness  where  we  ought  to  be  most  deliberate,  and 
governed  by  passion  where  we  ought  to  follow  most  reso- 


TEST    OF   PIETY.  303 

lately  the  dictates  of  reflection.  As  to  the  joy  which  fol- 
lowed your  depression,  it  was,  I  apprehend,  a  very  natural 
effect.  The  mind,  especially  in  youth,  is  soon  exhausted 
by  a  strong  emotion,  and  is  prepared  to  receive  an  opposite 
feeling  with  peculiar  force.  Great  depression  and  great 
joy  are  often  seen  to  succeed  each  other.  The  mind  over- 
whelmed with  the  thought  of  danger  is  equally  overwhelmed 
with  transport  by  the  thought  of  escape.  My  own  tempera- 
ment is  rather  equable,  but  my  life  is  too  much  made  up 
of  successions  of  feeling.  I  am  sometimes  dull  and 
dispirited,  and  feel  as  if  all  my  powers  and  affections  were 
dead.  An  interesting  book,  or  religious  friend,  or  other 
circumstances,  will  at  once  awaken  me  from  this  low  and 
desponding  state,  and  then  a  new  soul  seems  kindled  within 
my  breast  I  have  feelings  and  views  so  fresh,  and  tender, 
and  animated,  that  I  hardly  appear  to  myself  like  the  same 
man.  This  is  the  condition  of  our  poor  nature ;  and  I  have 
learned  to  ascribe  these  changes  much  more  to  my  physical 
organization  than  to  any  peculiar  influences  from  above. 
I  see  and  hear  of  such  vicissitudes  of  feeling  as  you  describe 
very  frequently,  especially  among  the  Methodists  and  Bap- 
tists, and  I  am  nowise  disposed  to  ascribe  to  hypocrisy  the 
narratives  given  by  these  persons  of  sudden  transitions  from 
horrid  thoughts  and  deep  distress  to  a  state  of  peace  and 
assurance  of  God's  favour.  I  learn,  however,  from  the  un- 
happy issue  of  many  of  these  conversions,  that  they  deserve 
little  confidence,  and  that  there  is  but  one  sure  test  of  piety, 
which  is  an  habitual  regard  to  the  will  of  God,  leading  us 
to  correct  every  unchristian  disposition,  and  to  cherish  all 
the  virtues  of  the  gospel. 

"  I  think  your  errors  may  be  traced  very  much  to  one 
source— unjust  and  unworthy  views  of  God.  This  is  the 
great  spring  of  corruption  in  religion.  The  great  contro- 
versies in  the  church  may  be  resolved  into  one  question — 

VOL.  I.  R 


364  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

'Is  GOD  INDEED  PERFECTLY  GOOD?'  To  my  mind,  most 
of  the  prevalent  theories  of  religion  rest  on  the  supposition 
that  he  is  not  good,  that  his  government  is  dreadfully 
severe,  and  that  it  is  the  greatest  of  evils  to  receive  ex- 
istence from  his  hand.  I  do  not  mean  that  these  senti- 
ments are  professed,  but  they  are  really  involved  in  the 
common  theories  of  Christianity,  and  by  being  early  fixed 
in  our  minds  they  throw  a  sad  darkness  over  God,  over  the 
present  and  future  life,  and  prepare  men  for  doctrines 
which  hardly  yield  in  gloominess  to  some  of  the  supersti- 
tions of  heathenism.  Perhaps  it  is  one  of  the  last  lessons 
which  many  of  us  learn,  that  God  is  truly  good ;  and  per- 
haps the  hardest  of  all  religious  duties  is  to  confide  in  his 
equity  and  benevolence.  The  severe  views  of  religion 
which  prevail  are  thought  favourable  to  piety,  very  much 
on  the  ground  that  the  most  rigid  monastic  institutions 
were  regarded  with  so  much  veneration.  That  these  in- 
stitutions often  produced  uncommon  strictness  and  un- 
common fervour  I  do  not  doubt;  but  their  general  influ 
ence  on  the  character  was  not  favourable,  nor  did  they  pro- 
mote the  great  cause  of  piety. 

"  You  speak  of  the  creed  you  have  signed,  and  justify  it 
on  the  ground  that  you  ought  to  show  what  sense  or  mean- 
ing you  give  to  the  Scriptures.  When,  therefore,  you  said, 
'  that  there  were  three  persons  in  one  God,'  you  intended 
by  this  to  give  the  meaning  of  certain  passages  of  Scripture 
which  have  been  variously  interpreted,  or  to  show  in  what 
manner  you  understand  them.  Now  I  object  to  this  article, 
that  it  wholly  fails  of  its  end,  that  I  cannot  conceive  what 
you  mean  by  it ;  it  brings  to  my  mind  but  one  idea,  which 
I  know  you  cannot  intend,  that  one  God  is  three  Gods. 
In  using  language  for  the  express  purpose  of  showing  what 
we  mean,  we  cannot  be  too  careful  to  avoid  equivocal  words, 
or  unusual  meanings  of  common  words.  The  word  person 


NATURE    OF   RELIGION.  365 

you  use  in  a  sense  which  I  do  not  comprehend,  and  which 
is  wholly  unauthorized  by  common  usage.  What,  then,  is 
gained  by  forsaking  the  language  of  Scripture  ? 

"  On  reviewing  this  letter,  I  find  it  written  in  a  manner 
which  you  may  possibly  misapprehend.  There  may  seem 
to  you  a  want  of  tenderness,  and  a  positiveness,  which  I 
assure  you  are  far  from  my  heart.  I  am  obliged  to  write 
as  fast  as  my  pen  will  run,  and  in  aiming  at  brevity  I  have 
omitted  expressions  of  kindness  which  my  heart  would 
prompt.  I  have  simply  wished  to  guard  you  against  what 
I  deem  great  errors,  and  to  give  you  my  views  of  the  true 
spirit  of  Christianity.  I  only  ask  from  you  calm  reflection. 
I  beg  that  no  authority  may  be  given  to  my  sentiments 
because  they  are  asserted  with  strength.  Confidence  is  no 
mark  of  truth.  I  wish  you  to  write  me  with  perfect  frank- 
ness, and  to  point  out  what  you  think  my  errors.  That 
your  character  will  be  improved  by  the  scenes  through 
which  you  have  lately  passed  is  my  sincere  hope.  I  shall 
never  love  you  less  for  any  opposition  of  sentiment,  whilst 
I  discern  in  your  character  the  badge  of  a  true  disciple, 
which  is  love.  As  to  your  entering  the  ministry,  you  do 
well  to  deliberate.  It  is  a  profession  to  which  we  should  be 
led  by  a  desire  of  doing  good,  and  a  hope  that  we  shall  be 
more  useful  in  it  than  in  other  pursuits.  You  will  excuse 
any  inaccuracies  in  so  hasty  and  long  a  letter. 
"Yours,  affectionately, 

"  W.  E.  CHANNING." 

1814.  MISTAKES  AS  TO  THE  NATURE  OF  RELIGION*. 
"  Were  love  to  God  a  transport  which  we  want  ability  to 
acquire,  and  which  our  nature  cannot  sustain,  our  merciful 
Father  would  never  have  required  it  as  our  duty.  He  is 
perfectly  kind  and  equitable  in  his  injunctions.  He  pro- 

*  Christian  Disciple,  vol.  ii.,  No.  10,  p.  308. 

R  2 


366  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

portions  his  commands  to  our  strength.  The  love  which  he 
requires  is  a  sentiment  of  gratitude,  esteem,  and  obedience 
— such  as  we  are  capable  of  feeling  towards  an  excellent 
and  benevolent  father,  and  such  as  we  are  to  express  in 
submission  to  his  will,  and  especially  in  observance  of  his 
commands,  and  in  imitation  of  his  goodness. 

"  This  love,  from  our  very  nature,  is  to  be  a  gradual,  pro- 
gressive sentiment.  No  one  expects  it  in  the  child  in  the 
same  force  and  purity  as  in  the  ripened  mind  of  man.  It 
is  to  grow  with  our  growth,  and  to  be  strengthened  by  daily 
exercise,  daily  reflection,  daily  thanksgiving,  and  daily 
prayer ;  and  thus  to  be  exalted  to  that  pure  and  unremitting 
fervour  with  which  it  glows  in  the  breasts  of  angels  and  the 
spirits  of  the  just  made  perfect." 

1811.  FREEDOM  OF  INQUIRY  IN  RELIGION.  "  From  the 
manner  in  which  Christ  and  his  apostles  introduced  and 
established  the  gospel,  we  learn  that  they  considered  reli- 
gion as  a  subject  on  which  all  men  ought  to  think  for 
themselves,  to  employ  their  own  minds,  to  inquire,  to 
deliberate,  to  fix  a  serious,  impartial  attention.  It  was  the 
wish  and  intention  of  the  great  Founder  of  our  religion, 
that  his  religion  should  be  examined,  should  be  received 
on  very  different  grounds  from  false  religions,  should  have 
no  support  but  what  it  derived  from  its  own  excellence, 
and  from  the  evidences  of  a  Divine  interposition  by  which 
it  was  accompanied 

"  Christianity  every  where  considers  it  as  a  settled,  con- 
ceded point,  that  men,  on  the  subject  of  religion,  are  to 
exercise  their  own  judgment,  and  to  follow  their  own  con- 
viction. I  know  it  is  thought  by  some  that  this  freedom 
of  inquiry  in  religion  is  dangerous,  especially  to  the  great 
mass  of  mankind.  It  is  thought  more  safe  that  a  few 
should  lead,  and  that  the  multitude  should  follow.  It  is 
said,  what  is  common  should  be  admitted  as  true,  that  the 


MULTIPLICITY   OF   SECTS.  367 

hereditary  faith  of  men  should  never  be  disturbed  by  sug- 
gesting the  importance  of  examination 

"  It  is  true  that  the  right  of  private  judgment  may  be 
abused.  Men,  under  pretence  of  thinking  for  themselves, 
may  renounce  the  plainest  and  most  important  truths,  may 
choose  to  depart  from  the  multitude,  and,  to  show  their 
boldness  and  independence,  may  advance  sentiments  at 
which  a  common  mind  shrinks  with  horror.  But  liberty 
in  every  form  may  be  abused.  There  is  but  one  infallible 
method  we  can  employ  of  preventing  men  from  doing  evil, 
— they  must  be  bound  hand  and  foot,  and  not  be  suffered 
to  exert  one  power  of  body  or  of  mind.  Give  them  a  power, 
and  they  will  sometimes  misapply  it.  Furnish  a  field  of 
action,  and  they  will  sometimes  go  astray.  Invigorate  the 
mind,  and  they  will  sometimes  employ  this  vigour  in  ac- 
complishing unworthy  ends.  Encourage  them  to  examine 
before  they  believe,  and  they  will  sometimes  practise  un- 
fairness, dishonesty  of  mind,  and  array  error  in  the  garb  of 
truth.  But  these  evils  form  no  balance  against  the  in- 
numerable advantages  of  a  vigorous  exertion  of  the  powers 
we  possess ;  and  he  who,  in  order  to  remove  these  evils, 
would  restrain  men's  liberty  of  thought  and  action,  would 
rob  our  nature  of  every  thing  which  ennobles  it,  and  reduce 
the  race  almost  to  the  level  of  brutes 

"  The  opinion  is  not  entirely  correct,  that  inquiry  into 
religion  has  produced  the  multiplicity  of  sects  in  the 
Christian  world.  I  would  rather  say,  that  the  want  of  ex- 
amination has  often  originated  and  extended  them.  The 
readiness  of  numbers  to  embrace  what  is  dogmatically  and 
loudly  asserted,  what  addresses  the  passions  instead  of  the 
understanding,  has  been  the  greatest  temptation  to  the 
heads  of  sects  to  propagate  their  peculiarities,  and  furnishes 
them  with  followers.  The  heads  of  sects  have  generally 
their  full  share  of  ambition,  and  their  ambition  is  fostered 
and  made  more  active  by  the  common  disposition  which 


368  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

they  see  to  receive  their  doctrines  without  examination. 
We  must  not  imagine  that  the  "way  to  stifle  sects  is  to  en- 
courage men  to  receive  religious  opinions  without  thought 
or  inquiry.  In  a  land  of  universal  toleration,  this  is  the 
most  direct  way  of  laying  them  open  to  imposition  and  en- 
thusiasm. The  only  way  of  producing  uniformity  is  to  en- 
courage serious  and  honest  inquiry. 

"  This  uniformity  has  sometimes  been  sought  by  con- 
straint :  but  in  vain.  If,  indeed,  the  power  of  a  state  should 
command  one  form  of  religion  to  be  preached,  and  should 
prohibit  the  expression  of  all  others,  I  grant  that  something 
like  uniformity  would  appear.  There  would  be  no  clamours 
of  contending  sects.  We  should  have  in  their  place  the 
silence  of  the  grave.  But  even  in  this  case  there  would  be 
no  real  uniformity  of  sentiment ;  for  where  the  activity  of 
the  mind  is  checked  on  the  subject  of  religion,  men  can 
hardly  be  said  to  have  any  sentiments.  They  may  hear, 
they  may  receive  words,  but  all  their  conceptions  are  vague. 
They  may  utter  the  same  sounds,  but  as  far  as  they  attach 
any  distinct  meaning  to  what  they  say,  the  probability  is 
that  they  resemble  each  other  in  opinion  as  little  as  do  now 
the  different  sects.  Besides,  this  vassalage  of  mind  cannot 
for  ever  be  maintained.  There  is  an  elastic  force  in  the 
human  understanding  which  resists  this  weight  of  oppres- 
sion ;  and  when  the  enslaved  world  once  obtains  freedom, 
and  begins  to  think  for  itself,  it  will  by  reaction  become 
more  devious  and  extravagant  in  its  operation  than  if  no 
burden  had  been  imposed.  Again,  I  say,  the  only  way  to 
produce  lasting  uniformity  of  sentiment  is  to  encourage  men 
to  think  seriously  and  honestly  on  religion,  to  inquire  into 
the  grounds  of  what  they  believe,  to  separate  the  true  from 
the  false,  and  the  clear  from  the  obscure. 

"  It  is  the  influence  of  such  examination  to  bring  truth  to 
light.  Truth  is  not  hidden  beneath  an  impenetrable  veil, 
but  reveals  herself  to  the  sincere  inquirer.  Men  of  this 


IMPORTANCE    OF   FREE    INQUIRY.  369 

character  are  not  easily  led  away  by  noisy  declamations, 
by  bold  assertions,  by  high  pretensions.  They  soon  learn 
that  true  wisdom  is  not  characterized  by  positiveness,  and 
that  those  who  claim  most  unreserved  assent  from  others 
deserve  it  the  least.  They  demand  proof,  and  this  is  the 
last  demand  which  enthusiasm  is  prepared  and  inclined  to 
answer.  They  are  not  carried  away  by  sounds  and  names. 
They  do  not  range  themselves  under  a  particular  banner, 
and  denounce  war  and  destruction  on  all  who  take  a 
different  standard  of  belief.  Claiming  for  themselves  the 
right  of  inquiry,  and  taught  by  inquiry  that  they  are  prone 
to  err,  they  become  more  diffident  of  their  own  judgment, 
and  lay  aside  their  censoriousness  towards  others.  And  if 
they  do  not  agree  entirely  in  sentiment  with  those  around 
them,  they  still  live  in  peace,  and  give  and  receive  light ; 
and  thus  a  foundation  is  laid  for  real  and  increasing  uni- 
formity of  opinion 

"  This  subject  is  never  uninteresting.  It  is  peculiarly 
important  at  the  time  in  which  we  live,  when  so  many 
opinions  divide  the  religious  world,  and  so  many  are  sum- 
moning us  with  confidence  to  come  over  to  them,  if  we 
would  find  truth  and  salvation.  In  this  state  of  things  we 
are  peculiarly  called  to  examine  before  we  approve.  Among 
the  various  sects  into  which  our  community  is  broken,  none 
can  produce  any  warrant  of  infallibility,  any  appointment  to 
the  high  office  of  interpreting  the  word  of  God  for  their 
brethren.  Let  us  not  be  swayed  by  names  or  numbers ; 
let  us  not  give  up  our  understandings  to  the  sway  of  the 
positive  and  dictatorial.  Let  us  seriously  inquire  into  the 
grounds  of  our  Christian  faith,  and,  having  established  the 
great  principle  that  Jesus  Christ  is  the  authorized  teacher 
and  light  of  mankind,  let  us  repair  to  his  word,  where  he 
speaks  to  us  and  to  all  mankind,  and  with  sincere,  honest, 
humble,  impartial  minds,  desirous  to  receive  and  resolved 


370  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

to  obey  his  truth,  let  us  earnestly  meditate  on  his  instruc- 
tion. 

"  If  once  we  forsake  this  guide,  to  whom  shall  we  attach 
ourselves  ?  If  once  we  choose  to  rest  on  human  authority, 
whom  shall  we  select  as  our  teacher  out  of  the  multitude 
who  wish  to  number  us  among  their  proselytes'?  What 
pledge  have  we  that  we  shall  not  throw  ourselves  into  the 
arms  of  the  most  deluded  ?  Let  us,  then,  stand  fast  in  the 
liberty  with  which  Christ  has  made  us  free.  Let  us  re- 
ceive nothing  because  positively  asserted  by  others.  And 
neither  let  us  settle  down  in  our  own  present  conceptions, 
as  if  they  were  infallibly  right  and  could  not  be  corrected. 
Let  us  avoid  equally  the  desire  of  singularity  and  the  desire 
of  conformity,  and  with  dispassionate,  unprejudiced  minds 
follow  our  Master  wherever  he  shall  lead." 

1813.  HUMILITY  IN  THE  INVESTIGATION  OF  CHRISTIAN 
TRUTH  *.  "  A  timid  and  abject  spirit,  at  once  unfavourable 
to  truth  and  degrading  to  the  character,  has  often  been 
recommended  as  humility,  and  been  cherished  as  a  virtue 
on  account  of  the  honourable  name  which  it  has  borne.  I 
wish  to  consider  what  is  intended  by  that  humility  which 
we  ought  to  carry  with  us  into  our  inquiries  after  religion. 
And  for  the  sake  of  greater  clearness,  I  will  begin  with 
pointing  out  what  this  humility  does  not  imply. 

"  1.  To  search  for  truth  with  Christian  humility  does 
not  imply  that  we  consider  ourselves  incapable  of  judging 
for  ourselves,  and  that  we  resign  our  understanding  to  the 
guidance  of  others.  This  is  a  humility  which  aspiring  and 
haughty  men  very  naturally  recommend,  for  it  is  the  great 
foundation  of  spiritual  dominion.  But  we  ought  to  be  just 
to  ourselves  and  to  the  powers  which  God  has  given  us. 
We  ought  to  feel  that  we  are  rational  and  moral  beings, 
*  Christian  Disciple,  vol.  i.,  No.  1,  p.  18. 


CONFIDENT    GUIDES.  371 

bound  to  exert  our  faculties,  and  accountable  for  their  im- 
provement  

"  If,  indeed,  we  were  assured  that  any  human  being  was 
infallible,  we  might  safely  commit  to  him  the  keeping  of 
our  consciences.  But  where  is  this  privileged  mortal, 
whose  understanding  is  a  region  of  unclouded  light,  a 
temple  of  truth  too  holy  for  the  entrance  of  a  single  error? 
Who  will  dare,  in  so  many  words,  to  claim  this  exemption 
from  human  frailty  ? 

"  Some,  indeed,  talk  with  great  boldness  of  the  perfect 
assurance  which  they  have  attained,  as  to  the  truth  of  the 
most  disputed  doctrines.  But  who  are  thes"e  bold  and  con- 
fident men  ?  Are  they  distinguished  by  the  patience  of 
their  inquiries,  the  calmness  of  their  minds,  the  deliberate- 
ness  of  their  judgments,  the  humility  and  meekness  of 
their  tempers  ?  Or  are  they  the  precipitate,  ardent,  vain, 
and  ignorant  ? 

"  Some  men  are  sure  that  they  are  right  on  points  where 
the  wisest  have  doubted,  because  light  has  flashed  upon 
their  minds  from  heaven.  They  carry  within  them  an 
indescribable  feeling  which  assures  them  of  the  truth  of 
their  sentiments.  They  have  received  sudden,  irresistible 
impressions,  which  are  worth  more  than  a  thousand  argu- 
ments. Are  these  the  men  we  are  prepared  to  follow  ? 
Then  there  is  no  extravagance  of  sentiment  or  practice 
which  we  must  not  embrace.  There  is  no  absurdity  of 
which  some  weak  enthusiast  has  not  felt  the  certainty. 

"  Some  men  owe  their  confidence  not  so  much  to  enthu- 
siasm as  to  their  ignorance.  Perhaps  nothing  produces  so 
much  positiveness  as  narrowness  of  views.  No  difficulties 
ever  strike  that  mind  which  looks  only  at  one  side  of  a 
question.  No  doubts  disturb  him  who  will  not  inquire. 

"  If,  then,  loud  claims  are  not  to  be  believed,  how  are 
we  to  choose  the  guide  to  whom  we  may  resign  our  under- 
standing ?  A  thousand  offer  to  conduct  us  to  truth  and 

R3 


372  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

heaven.  Whom  shall  we  follow?  We  must,  at  least, 
compare  their  different  systems  ;  and  what  is  this  but  say- 
ing that  we  must  employ  our  own  understandings  on  re- 
ligion, that  we  must  judge  for  ourselves  ? 

"Am  I  told  by  some  of  my  readers,  that  they  intend  to 
take  for  their  guides,  not  enthusiasts  or  the  ignorant,  but 
men  of  enlarged  minds,  more  favoured  than  themselves 
with  the  power  and  means  of  discovering  truth  ?  To  this 
the  answer  is  obvious.  If  men  of  enlarged  minds  were 
united  in  their  views  of  Christian  doctrines,  the  presump- 
tion would  be  strong  in  favour  of  their  correctness.  But 
who  does  not  know  that  on  several  subjects  the  wise  are 
divided  ;  that  every  age  has  teemed  with  the  controversies  of 
the  learned ;  that  great  names  are  ranged  under  very  dif- 
ferent standards  ;  that  every  sect  can  number  among  its 
advocates  profound  reasoners  and  laborious  inquirers  ? 
The  fact  is,  that  the  most  vigorous  minds  are  accessible  to 
error,  that  the  wisest  men  cannot  escape  all  the  prejudices 
of  education,  all  the  biases  to  which  they  are  exposed  from 
their  connections  and  pursuits.  Great  men  are  often  very 
weak.  Some  are  blinded  by  attachment  to  old  opinions 
which  they  began  to  defend  before  they  had  examined 
them.  Others  are  perverted  by  a  passion  for  novelty,  and 
by  the  proud  hope  of  raising  a  name  on  the  ruin  of  ancient 
systems.  Before  we  attach  authority  to  another  man's 
opinions,  we  should  not  merely  ask,  Is  he  intelligent  and 
profound  ?  We  should  inquire,  How  was  he  educated  ? 
where  has  he  lived  ?  And  especially  we  should  inquire, 
whether  his  reputation  or  interest  be  not  in  some  degree 
connected  with  the  sentiments  he  defends.  And  after  all, 
how  poorly  can  we  judge  of  the  degree  of  impartiality  with 
which  the  mind  of  another  has  conducted  its  inquiries  after 
truth  ! 

"  But  some  will  say  that  they  choose  for  their  guides, 
not  the  learned,  but  the  most  pious  class  of  Christians, 


LOUD    PRETENSIONS.  373 

and  that  they  can  hardly  err  in  the  company  of  saints. 
But,  my  friends,  let  me  ask  you,  Who  has  constituted  you 
the  judges  of  other  men's  piety  ?  Are  the  hearts  of  men 
so  easily  searched,  are  the  marks  of  goodness  so  obvious 
and  undoubted,  are  false  professors  of  piety  so  easily  de- 
tected, that  you  feel  no  hesitation  in  deciding  to  what  de- 
nomination of  Christians  the  purest  piety  ought  to  be 
ascribed  ?  For  myself,  I  had  much  rather  be  the  judge  of 
doctrines  than  of  characters.  If  you  act  upon  the  princi- 
ple of  making  the  most  pious  your  spiritual  guides,  you 
will  probably  attach  yourselves  to  those  who  make  the 
loudest  professions  of  religion.  But  are  you  sure  that  you 
will  find  among  these  the  profoundest  humility  and  the 
tenderest  love  of  God  and  Jesus  Christ?  Do  those 
who  make  the  longest  prayers  always  wear  the  purest 
hearts  ? 

"  I  am  far  from  applying  the  character  of  the  Pharisees 
to  any  class  of  Christians.  Whilst  every  denomination 
has  its  hypocrites,  there  is  no  one,  I  trust,  which,  as  a  body, 
is  marked  by  hypocrisy.  I  only  mean  to  say  that  loud 
pretensions  and  fair  appearances  are  notalways  tobe  trusted  ; 
that  popular  opinion  may  invest  with  peculiar  sanctity  the 
very  sect  which  is  most  unsound  in  faith  and  practice.  The 
purest  piety  is  modest,  unobtrusive,  retiring.  It  is  often 
concealed,  or  discloses  itself  only  to  the  eye  of  friendship. 
It  is  not  ambitious  of  controlling  the  opinions  of  the  world, 
and  puts  in  no  claim  to  obedience  from  the  multitude. 
How,  then,  shall  we  be  sure  that  the  class  of  Christians 
whom  we  may  select  as  our  guides  are  the  purest  who  bear 
the  Christian  name  ? 

"  Another  objection  may  be  made  to  the  principle  of 
choosing  the  pious  as  our  spiritual  directors.  If  we  look 
round  on  the  Christian  world  with  candid  and  inquiring 
minds,  we  shall  see  marks  of  the  purest  piety  in  every 
denomination.  Every  church  will  exhibit  to  us  its  saints. 


374  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

It  is  a  delightful  thought,  that  religion  is  confined  to  none 
of  those  inclosures  of  sect  and  party  which  are  so  often 
the  limits  of  our  narrow  charity.  As  'Protestants,  we 
shrink  from  the  corruptions  of  the  Church  of  Rome.  But 
what  venerable  sanctity  has  adorned  many  of  its  members  ! 
Who  can  pronounce  the  name  of  Fenelon  without  thinking 
better  of  human  nature  ?  Calvinism  numbers  among  its 
disciples  the  fathers  of  New  England,  men  of  exalted  piety, 
who  breathed  the  spirit  of  the  early  martyrs.  On  the  other 
hand,  who  can  number  the  host  of  worthies  who  have 
looked  with  a  shuddering  abhorrence  on  the  doctrines  of 
Calvin  ?  Into  what  perplexities  shall  we  be  thrown,  into 
what  opposite  paths  shall  we  be  attracted,  if  we  choose  to 
believe  whatever  the  pious  have  believed  ! 

"  Let  us  love  and  respect  the  good,  but  let  us  not  lean 
upon  them,  as  if  they  could  never  fall  into  error.  The 
best  heart  is  not  always  guided  by  the  most  enlightened 
mind.  Sometimes  very  conscientious  men  are  weak  and 
timid.  They  are  alarmed  by  the  denunciations  of  the 
positive,  fear  to  inquire,  and  thus  yield  themselves  slaves 
to  gross  superstitions.  Sometimes  very  excellent  men 
have  more  fancy  than  judgment.  They  delight  in  the 
marvellous,  and  find  hidden  meanings  in  the  plainest 
language  of  Scripture ;  they  send  their  thoughts  into  the 
spiritual  world,  and  mistake  their  vivid  and  pleasing  dreams 
for  Divine  communications.  Where  shall  we  not  be  led, 
what  absurdity  shall  we  not  adopt,  if  every  opinion  is  to  be 
embraced  which  has  found  a  place  in  the  minds  of  the 
devout  ? 

"2.  To  search  for  truth  with  Christian  humility  does 
not  imply  that  we  renounce  our  reason,  and  yield  our  as- 
sent to  inconsistent  or  contradictory  propositions.  A  hu- 
mility of  this  kind  is  sometimes  urged.  We  are  told  that 
the  human  mind  cannot  penetrate  the  depths  of  Divine 
wisdom  ;  that  it  is  pride  to  bring  God's  truth  to  the  bar  of 


REVELATION  AND  REASON.         375 

our  reason ;  that  we  are  to  receive  the  obvious  meaning  of 
Scripture,  however  it  may  contradict  our  previous  concep- 
tions of  truth  and  rectitude  ;  and  that  our  humility  is  pro- 
portioned to  the  readiness  with  which  we  embrace  what 
shocks  our  understandings. 

"  Every  man  must  have  met  with  language  like 
this,  not  very  precise,  and  not  altogether  erroneous,  but 
yet  adapted  to  produce  unhappy  effects,  to  terrify  and  sub- 
due the  spirit  of  inquiry,  and  to  prepare  men  for  the  recep- 
tion of  any  absurdity,  which  is  urged  on  them,  as  a  reve- 
lation from  God 

"But  because  our  faculties  and  improvements  are 
limited,  we  ought  not  to  expect  that  we  shall  ever  be  called 
by  our  Creator  to  yield  assent  to  doctrines  which,  after 
deliberate  and  impartial  attention,  clearly  appear  to  con- 
tradict one  another,  or  to  contradict  the  truths  which  God 
is  teaching  us  by  reason  and  by  nature.  If  our  rational 
powers  are  among  the  best  gifts  of  God,  if  they  form,  in 
no  small  degree,  the  distinction  and  glory  of  our  nature, 
and  if  it  is  our  duty  to  employ  and  improve  them,  can  we 
expect  a  revelation  which  will  require  us  to  renounce  them, 
and  will  introduce  into  our  understandings  perplexity  and 
confusion? 

"Let  me  ask,  why  is  it  that  a  revelation  has  been  made 
to  man,  rather  than  to  inferior  animals  ?  Is  not  this  the 
plain  answer,  that  man  is  a  rational  being  ?  Is  not  the 
possession  of  reason  the  very  ground  on  which  this  signal 
benefit  is  conferred  upon  our  race  ?  And  can  we  suppose, 
then,  that  revelation  contradicts  reason,  that  it  calls  us  to 
renounce  the  very  faculties  which  prepare  us  for  its  recep- 
tion ? To  be  Christians  we  need  not  cease  to  be 

rational.  There  is  no  such  hostility  as  many  seem  to 
represent  between  reason  and  revelation.  Revelation 
addresses  its  proofs  and  instructions  to  reason.  Both  are 
God's  gifts,  both  are  beams  from  the  same  source  of  light, 
both  are  consistent,  and  both  designed  to  conduct  us  to 


376  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

perfection  and  immortality.  Let  it  be  remembered  that  I 
am  speaking  of  reason,  when  exercised  with  seriousness, 
deliberation,  and  impartiality.  Will  any  say  that  this 
deserves  no  respect,  no  confidence  ? 

"  True  humility  is  founded  in  a  conviction  of  our  igno- 
rance, and  of  our  exposure  to  error;  and  I  now  come 
to  consider  the  influence  which  this  conviction  should 
have  on  our  temper  and  conduct.  In  this  humility 
chiefly  consists.  The  mere  conviction  of  our  ignorance 
and  fallibility  is  of  little  value.  Every  man  in  a  de- 
gree possesses  it.  Every  man  will  tell  you,  and  tell  you 
with  sincerity,  that  his  views  are  narrow,  that  he  has  often 
erred,  that  there  are  many  things  too  vast  to  be  grasped, 
many  too  intricate  to  be  traced,  and  many  too  subtile  to  be 
detected  by  his  imperfect  vision.  Still  all  men  are  not 
humble.  It  is  one  thing  to  admit  a  truth,  and  another  to 
reduce  it  to  practice.  Now  it  is  a  practical  regard  to  the 
sentiments  which  I  have  endeavoured  to  illustrate  which 
constitutes  humility.  We  are  humble  only  as  far  as  we 
possess  and  discover  the  dispositions  and  habits  which 
these  sentiments  are  suited  to  produce.  What,  then,  are 
these  dispositions  and  habits '? 

"1.  A  strong  and  operative  desire  of  extending  and  im- 
proving our  views  of  Christian  truth  may  be  mentioned  as 
the  first  disposition  which  ought  to  spring  from  a  convic- 
tion of  our  ignorance  and  fallibility.  Do  we  know  little  ? 
then  we  should  labour  to  know  more.  Of  what  avail  is  it 
to  feel  our  mental  wants,  if  we  do  not  strive  to  supply 
them  ?  Of  what  avail  to  reflect  on  the  little  progress  we 
have  made,  unless  we  are  induced  to  quicken  our  steps  ? 
Christians  are  too  apt  to  think  that  there  is  virtue  in  merely 
perceiving  and  lamenting  their  imperfections.  But  the 
humility  which  stops  here  is  unworthy  the  name.  It  may 
even  prove  injurious,  by  weakening  the  tone  of  the  mind,  and 
rendering  it  abject  and  desponding.  True  humility  does 
not  spend  its  time  and  strength  in  brooding  with  motion- 


LISTENING    TO    OBJECTIONS.  377 

less  and  unavailing  grief  over  its  many  imperfections.  It 
is  a  spring  of  exertion.  It  teaches  us,  indeed,  to  count 
our  present  attainments  trifling,  but  not  to  despise  our 
nature  and  faculties.  Of  these  we  cannot  think  or  speak 
too  highly.  They  bear  the  signature  of  God,  the  indications 
of  immortality,  for  they  are  capable  of  endless  improve- 
ment  

"  2.  Caution  in  forming  our  religious  opinions  is  another 
habit  of  mind  which  a  sense  of  our  ignorance  and  fallibility 

should  lead  us  to  cultivate From  the  present 

narrowness  and  imperfections  of  our  minds,  our  first  views 
are  necessarily  partial.  Our  first  impressions  are  never 
precisely  conformed  to  the  truth.  We  must  give  ourselves 
time  to  penetrate  beneath  the  surface  ;  to  remove  from  a 
subject  what  is  accidentally  associated  with  it ;  to  survey 
it  on  every  side ;  to  examine  it  at  different  times,  in  dif- 
ferent lights,  and  in  different  states  of  mind  ;  or  we  must 
not  hope  that  our  decisions  will  be  correct. — My  friends, 
beware  of  precipitate  judgments.  Patient  attention  is 
the  price  of  truth.  You  know  nothing  of  yourselves, 
nothing  of  your  mental  weakness,  if  you  hope  by  casual 
and  careless  thought  to  attain  to  just  and  enlarged  appre- 
hensions  

"  3.  A  willingness  to  listen  to  objections  is  another  most 
important  disposition,  to  which  we  are  directly  led  by  a 
serious  consideration  of  our  ignorance  and  exposure  to 
error.  This  is  one  of  the  most  decided  marks  of  true  hu- 
mility —worth  more  than  a  thousand  loud  professions  of 
our  unworthiness  and  imperfections.  I  would  that  it  were 
as  common  as  it  is  just  and  honourable Reluc- 
tance to  submit  your  opinions  to  scrutiny  is  suspicious. 
It  argues  a  latent  fear  of  the  result  of  inquiry.  It  is  too 
often  the  refuge  of  conscious  weakness,  of  timid  yet  stubborn 
error.  Listen  patiently  to  the  arguments  which  are 
directed  against  your  favourite  sentiments.  Look  at  them 


378  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

with  a  steady  eye.  Meet  them  in  all  their  force.  Do  not 
examine  them  with  a  settled  purpose  to  evade  them.  Be 
truth  your  single  aim.  Especially  be  not  angry  when  your 
opinions  are  assailed.  Many  resist  opposition  to  their 
sentiments,  as  if  it  were  an  insult.  But  why  should  you 
consider  an  honest  objector  as  an  enemy '?  If  he  attack 
your  errors,  he  is  an  invaluable  friend ;  and  if  he  oppose 
the  truth,  his  good  intention  still  entitles  him  to  respect. 
To  repel  objections  with  passion  betrays  both  weakness 
and  pride,  and  most  effectually  bars  the  mind  against  the 
entrance  of  truth. 

"  This  openness  to  conviction  which  has  now  been  re- 
commended is  one  of  the  noblest  virtues.  It  is  infinitely 
more  valuable  than  learning  or  genius.  It  is  the  founda- 
tion of  improvement,  and  the  surest  defence  against  error ; 
and  yet  how  many  want  it !  How  many  hate  that  light 
which  exposes  the  weakness  of  some  long-cherished 
opinions  !  How  many  refuse  to  hear  or  to  read  whatever 
assails  their  favourite  system  !  How  many  attach  a  sanctity 
to  every  doctrine  they  receive,  and  shrink  from  doubts,  as 
from  undisguised  impiety  ! 

"  4.  Modesty  in  advancing  and  enforcing  our  sentiments 
is  another  disposition  which  ought  to  spring  from  a  sense 
of  our  ignorance  and  fallibility.  Surely  it  does  not  become 
beings  so  erring  as  we  are  to  claim  submission,  to  offer 
ourselves  as  guides,  to  impose  authoritatively  our  belief  on 
other  minds 

"Genuine  zeal  for  truth  displays  itself  in  presenting 
clearly  and  persuasively  to  our  fellow-beings  the  evidences 
of  what  we  deem  important  truth.  It  does  not  storm  their 
minds  with  denunciation  and  positive  assertion;  but  only 
asks  to  be  heard  with  seriousness  and  candour,  and  invites 
and  urges  them  to  think  and  to  judge  for  themselves. 
This  is  the  only  influence  which  benevolence  and  humility 
permit  you  to  employ  over  the  minds  of  men.  Beware  of 


SINFULNESS  OF  INFANTS.  379 

exerting  any  other.  Beware  of  wishing  to  be  heads,  and 
to  give  the  hue  of  your  own  minds  to  all  around  you.  This 
passion  for  spiritual  power  is  very  common,  and  has  done 
incalculable  injury.  It  has  reared  and  sustained  many  a 
fabric  of  superstition.  To  accomplish  its  end,  to  establish 
its  control  over  the  faith  of  mankind,  it  assails  the  timid 
with  threats,  and  the  credulous  with  confident  assertions. 
It  pours  out  invective  on  men  of  independent  minds,  and 
teaches  the  multitude  to  recoil  from  them  with  instantaneous 
horror.  By  these  means  the  most  galling  yoke  is  imposed 
on  men.  Their  understandings  are  enslaved.  They  dread 
to  inquire.  A  tremendous  account  is  to  be  rendered 
by  those  who,  instead  of  being  clothed  with  humility  and 
love,  thus  lord  it  over  God's  heritage,  arrest  the  progress 
of  the  mind,  and  multiply  obstructions  in  the  path  of 
truth." 

August,  1814.  ON  THE  SIN  FULNESS  OF  INFANTS*.  "There 
are  those  whose  language  respecting  children,  if  it  have  any 
meaning,  directly  affirms  their  guilt  and  their  desert  of 
ruin.  According  to  some,  human  nature  is  sinful,  corrupt, 
depraved  at  birth.  Infants  are  demons  in  human  shape, 
objects  of  God's  abhorrence,  and,  if  treated  according  to 
their  deserts,  they  would  be  plunged  into  hell 

"  Common  sense  asks,  Why,  what  has  the  infant  done  ? 
He  has  only  drawn  a  few  breaths,  and  uttered  a  few  un- 
meaning cries.  He  is  an  entire  stranger  to  his  nature  and 
state,  has  not  one  idea  of  duty,  and  has  not  enjoyed  a  single 
means  of  improvement.  Right  and  wrong,  heaven  and  hell, 
all  the  truths  and  motives  of  religion,  are  as  unknown  to 
him  as  to  the  cradle  in  which  he  sleeps.  Can  sin,  guilt, 
and  ill-desert  be  ascribed  to  such  a  being?  Can  he  be  a 
sinner,  who  has  never  acted,  never  judged,  and  never  felt 
any  thing  except  a  few  pains  and  pleasures  of  the  body  ? 

*  Christian  Disciple,  vol.  ii.,  No.  8,  page  245. 


3*0  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

"  A  sinful  character  is  that  which  deserves  blame  and 
punishment.  But  do  those  qualities  which  children  have 
received  from  their  Creator,  and  brought  with  them  into 
the  world — to  which  they  have  added  no  strength  by  volun- 
tary indulgence  in  opposition  to  their  sense  of  duty,  and 
which  they  are  as  unable  to  prevent  as  they  are  to  stop  the 
course  of  the  sun  in  the  heavens — do  these  deserve  blame 
and  punishment  ?  It  seems  one  of  the  clearest  truths,  that 
we  are  responsible  only  as  far  as  we  have  power  to  know 
and  do  our  duty ;  that  we  are  depraved  and  guilty  only  as 
far  as  we  indulge  passions  or  perform  actions  which  we 
have  the  means  of  resisting  or  avoiding 

"  I  ask,  then,  if  children  were  demons,  fit  for  hell,  would 
God  have  given  them  that  attractive  sweetness,  that  mild 
beauty,  which  renders  them  the  most  interesting  objects  on 
earth,  and  which  compels  us  to  shrink  with  horror  from  the 
thought  of  their  everlasting  ruin  ?  Let  those  who  support 
this  sad  doctrine  contemplate  the  countenance  of  infancy, 
its  unfurrowed  brow,  the  smile  with  which  it  rewards  the 
caresses  of  parental  affection,  and  the  tranquillity  which 
sleep  diffuses  over  its  features.  Who  has  not  felt  the  tur- 
bulent passions  of  his  nature  calmed  by  the  sight  of  child- 
hood ?  And  is  this  winning  child,  whom  God  has  adorned 
with  charms  the  most  suited  to  engage  the  heart,  abhorred 
by  God,  and  fit  only  for  the  flames  of  hell  ? 

"  We  must  always  remember  that  the  moral  perfections 
of  God,  his  equity  and  justice,  his  benevolence  and  mercy, 
are  the  great  and  only  grounds  on  which  he  claims,  or  can 
claim,  our  veneration  and  love.  These  perfections  He  at 
the  very  foundation  of  piety.  Let  these  be  shaken,  and 
the  whole  fabric  of  religion  totters.  God  is  the  proper 
object  of  our  love  and  worship,  not  because  he  is  a  powerful 
Creator,  but  a  righteous,  equitable,  and  benevolent  Creator. 
We  learn  from  these  obvious  remarks,  that  we  cannot 
suspect  too  strongly  a  doctrine  which,  after  serious  and 
impartial  attention,  appears  to  us  to  clash  with  God's  moral 


LIBERALITY   AND    FERVOUR.  381 

perfections.  Now  let  me  ask,  can  we  conceive  any  thing 
more  repugnant  to  justice  and  benevolence,  than  the  doc- 
trine, that  God  brings  children  into  existence  with  a  nature 
deserving  his  abhorrence,  and  that  he  abhors  them  on  ac- 
count of  the  very  nature  which  he  has  given  them  ?  How 
can  we  ascribe  to  God  a  more  repulsive  and  unamiable 
character  ?  How  calamitous  would  it  be  to  receive  existence 
from  such  a  Creator !  We  are  taught  to  regard  God  as 
infinitely  kinder  than  earthly  parents.  But  with  what 
severity  of  language  should  we  speak  of  an  earthly  parent 
who  should  stamp  a  character  of  sin  on  his  child,  and  then 
regard  it  with  aversion !  Is  it  possible  that  creatures  fresh 
from  the  hands  of  God  are  at  their  first  breath  utterly  vile 
and  heirs  of  his  wrath  ?  " 

May,  1815.  DANGERS  OF  LIBERALITY*.  "It  is  best,  then, 
to  acknowledge  with  Christian  frankness  and  sincerity,  that 
men  of  liberal  minds  have  often  been  defective  in  fervour ; 
that  the  spirit  of  free  inquiry  has  sometimes,  if  not  fre- 
quently, produced  an  indifference  about  opinions ;  and  that 
the  dread  of  bigotry  and  fanaticism  has  hurried  many  into 
the  opposite  extreme  of  languor  and  insensibility.  In  ad- 
mitting all  this,  we  do  not  disparage  candour  and  free 
inquiry  any  more  than  we  disparage  a  zeal  for  truth  by 
saying  that  it  has  sometimes  degenerated  into  intolerance, 
and  lighted  the  fires  of  persecution,  or  than  we  condemn 
religious  fervour  by  saying  that  it  has  sometimes,  for  want 
of  judicious  direction,  broken  out  into  delirious  transports 
and  a  blind  and  furious  enthusiasm.  The  fact  is,  human 
nature  is  prone  to  extremes.  Every  principle  of  action, 
and  every  feeling,  may  pass  its  proper  limits. 

"  That  a  man  of  study  and  reflection  should  slide  into  a 
moderation  of  feeling  bordering  upon  coldness,  and  should 

*  Christian  Disciple,  vol.  iii.,  No.  5,  page  134. 


382  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

distrust  and  fear  the  admission  of  the  affections  into  re- 
ligion, ought  not  to  excite  our  wonder 

"  When  he  sees  the  extravagances  of  imagination,  which 
in  ages  of  darkness  were  propagated  as  communications 
from  God  ;  when  he  sees  the  usurpations  of  the  proud,  the 
denunciations  of  the  arrogant,  and  the  frauds  imposed  on 
the  credulous  multitude  by  those  who  pretended  to  extraor- 
dinary sanctity  ;  when,  in  a  word,  he  sees  human  systems, 
the  growth  of  gloomy  or  heated  minds,  taking  the  place  of 
the  mild  and  simple  doctrines  of  Christianity,  rending 
whole  kingdoms  with  dissension,  embittering  social  life, 
quickening  and  arming  the  worst  passions  of  our  nature, 
and  even  promising  the  highest  seats  in  heaven  to  the  most 
unrelenting  and  uncharitable ;  when  the  reflecting  man 
reviews  these  melancholy  scenes  in  the  history  of  the 
Church,  can  we  wonder,  if,  from  dread  of  extravagance  and 
from  distrust  of  the  affections,  he  should  fall  into  a  habit  of 
cold  speculation,  and  should  prefer  a  religion  which,  re- 
tiring from  the  heart,  resides  only  in  the  understanding? 

"  The  affections  are  not  useless  parts  of  our  nature,  but 
on  their  just  direction  our  excellence  and  happiness  pecu- 
liarly depend.  The  affections  give  to  the  character  its 
principal  charm  and  interest.  We  delight  to  see  the  heart 
awakened  by  a  pure  emotion 

"  Is  affection  an  improper  tribute  to  be  offered  to  God? 
His  whole  character  is  an  appeal  to  our  affections.  His 
character  is  the  concentration  of  all  that  is  lovely  and  ve- 
nerable ;  and  in  his  relation  of  Father,  Benefactor,  and 
Sovereign,  how  powerful  are  his  claims  on  the  best  senti- 
ments of  our  nature ! 

"  It  is  of  great  importance  that  religion  should  be  au 
affection  of  the  heart,  as  well  as  a  conviction  of  the  under- 
standing ;  because  it  is  to  govern  in  a  soul  which  is  agitated 
by  various  passions,  which  is  powerfully  solicited  by  the 
world,  and  which  is  prone  to  contract  a  sensual  taint  and  a 


RELIGIOUS    AFFECTIONS.  383 

sordid  character.  These  strong  and  dangerous  propensities 
of  human  nature  are  not  to  be  counteracted  by  mere  specu- 
lations of  the  intellect.  The  heart  must  be  engaged  on  the 
side  of  God  and  duty.  To  subdue  the  love  of  the  world, 
a  nobler  love  must  be  kindled  within  us.  A  new  and  better 
channel  must  be  formed  for  that  desire  which  we  would 
turn  from  unworthy  ends.  We  cannot,  if  we  would,  ex- 
tinguish the  affections.  Our  safety  consists  in  directing 
their  force  and  energy  to  noble  and  elevated  objects — to 
God,  to  virtue,  and  to  immortality. 

"  Religious  sensibility  is  of  great  importance,  as  it  gives 
animation  and  delight  to  the  obedience  of  all  God's  com- 
mands— to  the  practice  even  of  painful  duties.  Sensibility, 
affection,  communicates  an  almost  incredible  force  to  human 
nature.  Where  men  love  strongly,  what  toils  and  sacrifices 
can  they  endure!  how  lightened  is  labour!  how  cheerful 
is  suffering !  A  warm  affection  seems  almost  to  create  new 
faculties  in  the  soul.  It  spreads  a  new  lustre  over  the 
countenance,  and  seems  even  to  nerve  the  body  with  new 
power.  Men  have  never  done  much  when  the  heart  has 
been  cold ;  and  what  have  they  not  done,  what  have  they 
not  subdued,  when  the  heart  has  been  quickened  to  generous 
emotions?  To  rob  religion  of  sensibility  is  to  make  it  inert 
and  unproductive — to  render  obedience  to  God  a  toil,  and 
his  worship  a  mechanical  and  wearisome  service. 

"Let  us,  then,  beware  of  that  tendency  to  coldness 
which  has  been  charged  on  Liberal  Christians.  Their  views 
of  religion  have  certainly  nothing  to  chill  the  heart,  but 
every  thing  to  raise  it  into  love  and  hope.  Their  views 
might  well  be  distrusted,  were  they  unfavourable  to  an 
affectionate  piety  ;  and,  what  is  more,  their  cause  might  be 
given  up  in  despair,  did  it  require  the  extinction  of  sensi- 
bility. Human  nature  will  never  be  satisfied  with  a  system 
which  does  not  awaken  sentiment  and  emotion.  Man  has 
a  thirst  for  excitement,  he  delights  in  the  exercise  of  his 


THE    UNIT  API  AN    CONTROVERSY. 

affections,  and  his  Creator  can  hardly  be  supposed  to  give 
him  a  religion  which  contradicts  this  essential  part  of  his 
nature." 

August,  1815.  PRACTICAL  CHRISTIANITY*.  "Christianity, 
we  must  always  remember,  is  a  temper  and  a  spirit,  rather 
than  a  doctrine.  It  is  the  life  of  God  in  the  soul  of  man. 
It  consists  of  practical  truths,  designed  to  enlarge  the  heart, 
to  exalt  the  character,  to  make  us  partakers  of  a  divine 
nature.  Now  in  the  Epistles  of  St.  Paul  we  have  Chris- 
tianity displayed  to  us  in  the  very  form  which  accords  with 
the  genius  of  such  a  religion — not  as  a  speculation  of  the 
intellect,  but  as  a  living  principle,  a  sentiment  of  the  heart, 
a  spring  of  holy  action.  We  see  its  nature  in  the  influences 
which  it  exerts.  We  see  a  soul  penetrated  with  love  to 
God,  with  a  disinterested  charity,  with  anticipations  of  a 
higher  existence,  with  a  consciousness  of  guilt,  with  gratitude 
to  the  Saviour,  and  with  an  inextinguishable  desire  to  make 
known  his  love  and  promises  to  the  ends  of  the  earth. 
These  sentiments  break  forth  as  from  a  heart  too  full  to 
contain  them,  with  an  energy  which  discovers  the  mighty 
power  of  the  religion  which  gave  them  birth,  and  with  a 
freedom  which  no  other  style  but  the  epistolary  would  have 
admitted.  We  cannot  but  consider  the  letters  of  Paul,  with 
all  their  abrupt  transitions  and  occasional  obscurities,  as 
more  striking  exhibitions  of  genuine  Christianity  than  could 
have  been  transmitted  by  the  most  laboured  and  artificial 
compositions 

"  The  connection  between  faith  and  practice  seems  to 
be  considered  by  some  as  mysterious,  or  as  the  effect  of 
some  inexplicable  union,  which  is  formed  by  faith  between 
Jesus  Christ  and  the  human  soul.  But  this  subject  seems 
to  be  very  simple.  Faith  is  the  sincere  and  practical  recep- 
tion of  the  whole  religion  of  Jesus,  and  particularly  a  strong 

*  Christian  Disciple,  vol.  iii.,  No.  8,  page  236. 


THE   PANOPLIST   REVIEW.  385 

persuasion  of  that  future  life  which  is  offered  to  us  through 
Jesus  Christ ;  it  is  a  deep  conviction  of  practical  truths, 
that  is,  of  truths  suited  to  operate  on  the  human  heart,  and 
to  excite  to  action.  To  have  a  true  faith  is  to  feel  deeply 
the  most  powerful  motives  which  can  be  offered  to  a  life  of 
piety  and  virtue.  The  connection  between  faith  and  holi- 
ness, then,  is  natural  and  palpable,  and  involved  in  no 
obscurity." 

EXTRACTS    FROM   A    LETTER,    &C.,    TO   THE    REV.   SAMUEL   C. 
THACHER. 

"June  20th,  1815. 

"  MY  FRIEKD  AND  BROTHER, — I  have  recollected  with 
much  satisfaction  the  conversation  which  we  held  the  other 
morning,  on  the  subject  of  the  late  Review,  in  the  Panoplist 
for  June,  of  a  pamphlet  called  '  American  Unitarianism.' 

After  leaving  you,  my  thoughts  still  dwelt  on  the 

subject;  and,  painful  as  is  the  task,  I  have  thought  it  my 
duty  to  exhibit  to  the  public  the  topics  which  we  discussed, 
as  well  as  to  add  some  reflections  suggested  by  private 
meditation. 

"  I  bring  to  the  subject  a  feeling  which  I  cannot  well 
express  in  words,  but  which  you  can  easily  understand.  It 
is  a  feeling  as  if  I  were  degrading  myself  by  noticing  the 
false  and  injurious  charges  contained  in  this  Review.  I 
feel  as  if  I  were  admitting  that  we  need  vindication,  that 
our  reputations  want  support,  that  our  characters  and  lives 
do  not  speak  for  themselves.  My  self-respect,  too,  is 
wounded,  by  coming  into  contact  with  assailants  who  not  only 
deny  us  the  name  of  Christians,  but  withhold  from  us  the 
treatment  of  gentlemen.  These  feelings,  united  with  my 
love  of  peace,  would  induce  me  to  pass  over  the  Review  in 
silence,  if  it  were  limited  to  the  sphere  within  which  we  are 
personally  known.  In  this  sphere,  I  trust,  its  bitterness, 
coarseness,  and  misrepresentations  will  work  their  own 


386  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

cure  ;  and  that  no  other  defence  is  required,  but  the  tenor 
of  our  ministry  and  lives.  But  the  work  in  which  this 
article  is  published  is  industriously  spread  through  the 
country,  and  through  all  classes  of  society.  The  aspersions 
which  it  contains  are  also  diffused,  as  widely  as  possible, 
by  conversation  and  even  by  newspapers.  We  owe,  then, 
to  ourselves,  and,  what  is  more  important,  to  the  cause  of 
Christian  truth  and  charity,  some  remarks  on  the  repre- 
sentations and  spirit  of  the  Review 

"  The  Panoplist  Review,  though  extended  over  so  many 
pages,  may  be  compressed  into  a  very  narrow  space.  It 
asserts, — 

"  1 .  That  the  great  body  of  Liberal  ministers  in  this  town 
and  its  vicinity,  and  of  Liberal  Christians,  are  Unitarians 
in  Mr.  Belsham's  sense  of  the  word ;  that  is,  they  believe 
that  Jesus  Christ  is  a  mere  man,  who  when  on  earth  was 
liable  to  error  and  sin ;  to  whom  we  owe  no  gratitude  for 
benefits  which  we  are  now  receiving  ;  and  for  whose  future 
interposition  we  have  no  reason  to  hope. 

"2.  The  Review  asserts,  that  these  ministers  and  Liberal 
Christians  are  guilty  of  hypocritical  concealment  of  their 
sentiments,  and  behave  in  a  base,  cowardly,  and  hypocriti- 
cal manner. 

"  3.  Christians  are  called  to  come  out  and  separate  them- 
selves from  these  ministers,  and  the  Liberal  body  of  Chris- 
tians, and  to  withhold  from  them  Christian  communion. 

"  I  will  consider  these  three  heads  in  their  order. 

"  The  first  assertion  to  be  considered  is,  that  the  great 
body  of  Liberal  ministers  in  this  town  and  vicinity,  and  of 
Liberal  Christians  *  are  Unitarians,  in  Mr.  Belsham's 

*  "  I  have  used  the  phrase  or  denomination  Liberal  Christians  be- 
cause it  is  employed  by  the  Reviewer  to  distinguish  those  whom  he 
assails.  I  have  never  been  inclined  to  claim  this  appellation  for  myself 
or  my  friends,  because,  as  the  word  liberality  expresses  the  noblest 
qualities  of  the  human  mind— freedom  from  local  prejudices  and  narrow 


LIBERAL    CHRISTIANS.  387 

sense  of  that  word It  is  unnecessary  to  multiply 

extracts  to  show,  that  not  only  Boston,  but  its  vicinity,  is 
involved  in  the  charge.  In  fact,  the  Liberal  party,  in 
general,  is  ranged  under  the  standard  of  Mr.  Belsham. 

Now  we  both  of  us  know  this  statement  to  be  false 

"  The  word    Unitarianism,  as    denoting    opposition    to 
Trinitarianism,  undoubtedly  expresses  the  character  of  a 


feelings,  the  enlargement  of  the  views  and  affections — I  have  thought 
that  the  assumption  of  it  would  savour  of  that  spirit  which  has  attempted 
to  limit  the  words  orthodox  and  evangelical  to  a  particular  body  of 
Christians.  As  the  appellation,  however,  cannot  well  be  avoided,  I  will 
state  the  meaning  which  I  attach  to  it. 

"  By  a  Liberal  Christian,  I  understand  one  who  is  disposed  to  receive 
as  his  brethren  in  Christ  all  who,  in  the  judgment  of  charity,  sincerely 
profess  to  receive  Jesus  Christ  as  their  Lord  and  Master.  He  rejects  all 
tests  or  standards  of  Christian  faith  and  of  Christian  character,  but  the 
word  of  Jesus  Christ  and  of  his  inspired  apostles.  He  thinks  it  an  act 
of  disloyalty  to  his  Master  to  introduce  into  the  Church  creeds  of  fallible 
men  as  bonds  of  union,  or  terms  of  Christian  fellowship.  He  calls  him- 
self by  no  name  derived  from  human  leaders,  disclaims  all  exclusive  con- 
nection with  any  sect  or  party,  professes  himself  a  member  of  the  Church 
Universal  on  earth  and  in  heaven,  and  cheerfully  extends  the  hand  of 
brotherhood  to  every  man  of  every  name  who  discovers  the  spirit  of 
Jesus  Christ. 

"  According  to  this  view  of  Liberal  Christians,  they  cannot  be  called 
a  party.  They  are  distinguished  only  by  refusing  to  separate  themselves 
in  any  form  or  degree  from  the  great  body  of  Christ.  They  are  scattered, 
too,  through  all  classes  of  Christians.  I  have  known  Trinitarians  and 
Calvinists  who  justly  deserve  the  name  of  Liberal,  who  regard  with 
affection  all  who  appear  to  follow  Jesus  Christ  in  temper  and  life,  how- 
ever they  may  differ  on  the  common  points  of  theological  controversy. 
To  this  class  of  Christians,  which  is  scattered  over  the  earth,  and  which 
I  trust  has  never  been  extinct  in  any  age,  I  profess  and  desire  to  belong. 
God  send  them  prosperity  ! — In  this  part  of  the  country,  Liberal  Chris- 
tians, as  they  have  been  above  described,  are  generally,  though  by  no 
means  universally,  Unitarians,  in  the  proper  sense  of  that  word.  It  is 
of  this  part  of  them  that  I  chiefly  speak  in  this  letter." 

VOL.    I.  S 


388  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

considerable  part  of  the  ministers  of  this  town  and  its 
vicinity,  and  the  Commonwealth.  But  we  both  of  us  know 
that  their  Unitarianism  is  of  a  very  different  kind  from 
that  of  Mr.  Belsham.  We  agreed  in  our  late  conference, 
that  a  majority  of  our  brethren  believe  that  Jesus  Christ  is 
more  than  man,  that  he  existed  before  the  world,  that  he 
literally  came  from  heaven  to  save  our  race,  that  he  sus- 
tains other  offices  than  those  of  a  teacher  and  witness  to 
the  truth,  and  that  he  still  acts  for  our  benefit,  and  is  our 
intercessor  with  the  Father.  This  we  agreed  to  be. the 
pi-evalent  sentiment  of  our  brethren.  There  is  another 
class  of  Liberal  Christians,  who,  whilst  they  reject  the  dis- 
tinction of  three  persons  in  God,  are  yet  unable  to  pass  a 
definitive  judgment  on  the  various  systems  which  prevail, 
as  to  the  nature  and  rank  of  Jesus  Christ.  They  are  met 
by  difficulties  on  every  side,  and  generally  rest  in  the  con- 
clusion, that  He  whom  God  has  appointed  to  be  our  Saviour 
must  be  precisely  adapted  to  his  work,  and  that  acceptable 
faith  consists  in  regarding  and  following  him  as  our  Lord, 
Teacher,  and  Saviour ;  without  deciding  on  his  nature  or 
rank  in  the  universe.  There  is  another  class,  who  believe 
the  simple  humanity  of  Jesus  Christ ;  but  these  form  a 
small  proportion  of  the  great  body  of  Unitarians  in  this 
part  of  our  country ;  and  I  very  much  doubt  whether  of 
these  one  individual  can  be  found,  who  could  con- 
scientiously subscribe  to  Mr.  Belsham 's  creed  as  given  in 
the  Review.  The  conduct  of  the  Reviewer,  in  collecting 
all  the  opinions  of  that  gentleman,  not  only  on  the  Trinity, 
but  on  every  other  theological  subject,  in  giving  to  the 
whole  collection  the  name  of  Unitarianism,  and  in  exhibiting 
this  to  the  world  as  the  creed  of  Liberal  Christians  in  this 
region,  is  perhaps  as  criminal  an  instance  of  unfairness  as 
is  to  be  found  in  the  records  of  theological  controversy. 
The  fact  is,  that  the  great  body  of  Liberal  Christians 


CHARGE    OF    CONCEALMENT.  389 

•would  shrink  from  some  of  these  opinions  with  as  much 
aversion  as  from  some  of  the  gloomy  doctrines  of  Cal- 
vin  

"  I  trust  that  the  statement  which  has  now  been  made 
will  not  be  considered  as  casting  the  least  reproach  on 
those  amongst  us,  who  believe  in  the  simple  humanity  of 
Jesus  Christ.  Whilst  I  differ  from  them  in  opinion,  I 
have  certainly  no  disposition  to  deny  them  the  name  and 
privileges  of  Christians.  There  are  gentlemen  of  this 
class,  whom  I  have  the  happiness  to  know,  in  whom  I  dis- 
cover the  evidences  of  a  scrupulous  uprightness  and  a  genuine 
piety ;  and  there  are  others,  whose  characters,  as  portrayed 
by  their  biographers,  appear  to  me  striking  examples  of 
the  best  influences  of  Christianity 

"  I  now  come  to  the  second  charge  of  the  Review :  That 
the  liberal  ministers  of  Boston  and  the  vicinity,  and  the 
most  considerable  members  of  the  Liberal  party,  '  operate 
in  secret;  intrust  only  the  initiated  with  their  measures  ; 
are  guilty  of  hypocritical  concealment  of  their  sentiments  ; 

behave  in  a  base  and  hypocritical  manner.' This 

charge  is  infinitely  more  serious  than  the  first.  To  believe 
with  Mr.  Belsham  is  no  crime.  But  artifice,  plotting, 
hypocrisy  are  crimes  ;  and  if  we  practise  them,  we  deserve 
to  be  driven,  not  only  from  the  ministry,  not  only  from 
the  Church,  but  from  the  society  of  the  decent  and  re- 
spectable. Our  own  hearts,  I  trust,  tell  us  at  once  how 
gross  are  these  aspersions  ;  and  our  acquaintance  with  our 
brethren  authorizes  us  to  speak  in  their  vindication  with 
the  same  confidence  as  in  our  own. 

"  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  that  those  who  have  charged 
us  with  holding  sentiments  which  we  reject  should  proceed 
to  charge  us  with  hypocritically  concealing  our  sentiments. 
Most  of  us  have  often  contradicted  Mr.  Belsham 's  opinions ; 
and  they  who  insist  that  these  opinions  are  ours  will  be 
forced  to  maintain  that  we  practise  deceit.  They  start 

s  2 


390  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

with  a  falsehood,  and  their  conclusion  cannot  therefore  be 
true.  I  am  not,  however,  disposed  to  dismiss  this  charge 

of  artifice  and  hypocrisy  so  lightly As  to  myself, 

I  have  ever  been  inclined  to  cherish  the  most  exalted 
views  of  Jesus  Christ  which  are  consistent  with  the  supre- 
macy of  the  Father  ;  and  I  have  felt  it  my  duty  to  depart 
from  Mr.  Bel  sham  in  perhaps  every  sentiment  which  is 
peculiar  to  him  on  this  subject.  I  have  always  been  pleased 
with  some  of  the  sentiments  of  Dr.  Watts  on  the  intimate 
and  peculiar  union  between  the  Father  and  Son.  But  I  have 
always  abstained  most  scrupulously  from  every  expression 
which  could  be  construed  into  an  acknowledgment  of  the 
Trinity.  My  worship  and  sentiments  have  been  Unitarian 
in  the  proper  sense  of  that  word.  In  conversation  with 
my  people,  who  have  requested  my  opinion  upon  the  subject, 
especially  with  those  who  consider  themselves  Trinitarians, 
I  have  spoken  with  directness  and  simplicity.  Some  of 
those  who  differ  from  me  most  widely  have  received  from 
me  the  most  explicit  assurances  of  my  disbelief  of  the  doc- 
trine of  the  Trinity,  and  of  my  views  in  relation  to  the 
Saviour.  As  to  my  brethren  in  general,  never  have  I 
imagined  for  a  moment,  from  their  preaching  or  conversa- 
tion, that  they  had  the  least  desire  to  be  considered  as 
Trinitarians  ;  nor  have  I  ever  heard  from  them  any  views 
of  God  or  of  Jesus  Christ  but  Unitarian,  in  the  proper 
meaning  of  that  word. 

"It  is  indeed  time,  that  we  seldom  or  never  introduce 
the  Trinitarian  controversy  into  our  pulpits.  We  are  ac- 
customed to  speak  of  the  Father  as  the  only  living  and 
true  God,  and  of  Jesus  Christ  as  his  Son,  as  a  distinct 
being  from  him,  as  dependent  on  him,  subordinate  to  him, 
and  deriving  all  from  him.  This  phraseology  pervades  all 
our  prayers  and  all  our  preaching.  We  seldom  or  never, 
however,  refer  to  any  different  sentiments,  embraced  by 
other  Christians  on  the  nature  of  God  or  of  Jesus  Christ. 


AVERSION  TO  CONTROVERSY.         391 

We  preach  precisely  as  if  no  such  doctrine  as  the  Trinity 
had  ever  been  known.  We  do  not  attempt  to  refute  it, 
any  more  than  to  refute  the  systems  of  the  Sabellians,  the 
Eutychians,  or  the  Nestorians,  or  of  the  other  sects  who 
have  debated  these  questions  with  such  hot  and  unprofitable 
zeal.  But,  in  following  this  course,  we  are  not  conscious 
of  having  contracted,  in  the  least  degree,  the  guilt  of  in- 
sincerity. We  have  aimed  at  making  no  false  impression. 
We  have  only  followed  a  general  system,  which  we  are 
persuaded  to  be  best  for  our  people  and  for  the  cause  of 
Christianity ;  the  system  of  excluding  controversy  as  much 
as  possible  from  our  pulpits.  In  compliance  with  this 
system,  I  have  never  assailed  Trinitarianism ;  nor  have  I 
ever  said  one  word  against  Methodism,  Quakerism,  Epis- 
copalianism,  or  the  denomination  of  Baptists ;  and  I  may 
add  Popery,  if  I  except  a  few  occasional  remarks  on  the 
intolerance  of  that  system.  The  name  of  these  sects,  with 
that  single  exception,  has  never  passed  my  lips  in  preach- 
ing, through  my  whole  ministry,  which  has  continued  above 
twelve  years.  We  all  of  us  think  it  best  to  preach  the  truth, 
or  what  we  esteem  to  be  the  truth,  and  to  say  very  little 
about  error,  unless  it  be  error  of  a  strictly  practical  nature. 
A  striking  proof  of  our  sentiments  and  habits  on  this  sub- 
ject may  be  derived  from  the  manner  in  which  you  and 
myself  have  treated  Calvinism.  We  consider  the  errors 
which  relate  to  Christ's  person  as  of  little  or  no  importance, 
compared  with  the  error  of  those  who  teach  that  God 
brings  us  into  life  wholly  depraved  and  wholly  helpless, 
that  he  leaves  multitudes  without  that  aid  which  is  indis- 
pensably necessary  to  their  repentance,  and  then  plunges 
them  into  everlasting  burnings  and  unspeakable  torture  for 
not  repenting.  This  we  consider  as  one  of  the  most  in- 
jurious errors  which  ever  darkened  the  Christian  world  ; 
and  none  will  pretend  that  we  have  any  thing  to  fear  from 
exposing  this  error  to  our  people.  On  the  contrary,  we 


392  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

could  hardly  select  a  more  popular  topic;  and  yet  our 
hearers  will  bear  witness  how  seldom  we  introduce  this 
topic  into  our  preaching.  The  name  of  Calvinist  has  never, 
I  presume,  been  uttered  by  us  in  the  pulpit.  Our  method 
is,  to  state  what  we  conceive  to  be  more  honourable,  and 
ennobling,  and  encouraging  views  of  God's  character  and 
government,  and  to  leave  these  to  have  their  effect,  with- 
out holding  up  other  Christians  to  censure  or  contempt. 
We  could,  if  we  were  to  make  strenuous  efforts,  render  the 
name  of  Calvinist  as  much  a  word  of  reproach  in  our 
societies,  as  that  of  Unitarian  is  in  some  parts  of  our  coun- 
try. But  we  esteem  it  a  solemn  duty  to  disarm,  instead 
of  exciting,  the  bad  passions  of  our  people.  We  wish  to 
promote  among  them  a  spirit  of  universal  charity.  We 
wish  to  make  them  condemn  their  own  bad  practices,  rather 
than  the  erroneous  speculations  of  their  neighbour.  We 
love  them  too  sincerely  to  imbue  them  with  the  spirit  of 
controversy. 

"  In  thus  avoiding  controversy,  we  have  thought  that  we 
deserved,  not  reproach,  but  some  degree  of  praise  for  our 
self-denial.  Every  preacher  knows  how  much  easier  it  is 
to  write  a  controversial  than  a  practical  discourse ;  how 
much  easier  it  is  to  interest  an  audience  by  attacking  an 
opposite  party,  than  by  stating  to  them  the  duties  and  mo- 
tives of  the  gospel.  We  often  feel  that  our  mode  of  preach- 
ing exposes  us  to  the  danger  of  being  trite  and  dull;  and  I 
presume  we  have  often  been  tempted  to  gratify  the  love  of 
disputation  which  lurks  in  every  society.  But  so  deeply 
are  we  convinced  that  the  great  end  of  preaching  is  to  pro- 
mote a  spirit  of  love,  a  sober,  righteous,  and  godly  life,  and 
that  every  doctrine  is  to  be  urged  simply  and  exclusively 
for  this  end,  that  we  have  sacrificed  our  ease,  and  have 
chosen  to  be  less  striking  preachers,  rather  than  to  enter 
the  lists  of  controversy. 

"We  have  seldom  or  never  assailed  the  scheme  of  the 


NO   SPIRIT   OF   PROSELYTISM.  393 

Trinity,  not  only  from  our  dislike  to  controversy  in  general, 
but  from  a  persuasion  that  this  discussion  would,  above  all 
others,  perplex,  and  needlessly  perplex,  a  common  congre- 
gation, consisting  of  persons  of  all  ages,  capacities,  degrees 
of  improvement,  and  conditions  in  society.  This  doctrine 
we  all  regard  as  the  most  unintelligible  about  which  Chris- 
tians have  ever  disputed.  If  it  do  not  mean  that  there  are 
three  Gods,  (a  construction  which  its  advocates  indignantly 
repel,)  we  know  not  what  it  means ;  and  we  have  not 
thought  that  we  should  edify  common  hearers  by  attacking 
a  doctrine  altogether  inconceivable,  and  wholly  beyond  the 
grasp  of  our  faculties.  We  have  recollected,  too,  the  mis- 
chiefs of  the  Trinitarian  controversy  in  past  ages,  that  it 
has  been  a  firebrand  lighting  the  flames  of  persecution, 
and  kindling  infernal  passions  in  the  breasts  of  Christians  ; 
and  we  have  felt  no  disposition  to  interest  the  feelings  of 
our  congregation  in  a  dispute  which  has  so  disgraced  the 
professed  disciples  of  the  meek  and  lowly  Jesus.  Many  of 
us  have  been  disinclined,  not  only  to  assail  systems  which 
we  do  not  believe,  but  even  to  enforce  the  views  which  we 
have  given  of  the  rank  and  character  of  Jesus  Christ ;  be- 
cause we  have  known  how  divided  the  best  men  have  been 
on  these  topics,  and  how  largely  we  ourselves  partake  of 
the  fallibility  of  our  nature ;  because  we  have  wished  that 
our  hearers  should  derive  their  impressions  on  these  points 
as  much  as  possible  from  the  Scriptures ;  and  because  we 
have  all  been  persuaded  that  precision  of  views  upon  these 
subjects  is  in  no  degree  essential  to  the  faith  or  practice 
of  a  Christian.  We  have  considered  the  introduction  of  the 
Trinitarian  controversy  into  the  pulpit  as  the  less  neces- 
sary, because  we  have  generally  found  that  common  Chris- 
tians admit  that  distinction  between  God  and  his  Son,  and 
that  subordination  of  the  Son,  which  we  believe  to  be  the 
truth ;  and  as  to  that  very  small  part  of  our  hearers  who 
are  strongly  attached  to  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  while 


394  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

we  have  not  wished  to  conceal  from  them  our  difference 
of  opinion,  we  have  been  fully  satisfied  that  the  most  effec- 
tual method  of  promoting  their  holiness  and  salvation  was 
to  urge  on  them  perpetually  those  great  truths  and  precepts 
about  which  there  is  little  contention,  and  which  have  an 
immediate  bearing  on  the  temper  and  the  life.  To  con- 
clude, we  have  never  entered  into  discussions  of  the  doc- 
trine of  the  Trinity,  because  we  are  not  governed  by  a 
proselyting  temper.  I  will  venture  to  assert,  that  there  is 
not  on  earth  a  body  of  men  who  possess  less  of  the  spirit 
of  proselytism  than  the  ministers  of  this  town  and  vicinity. 
Accustomed  as  we  are  to  see  genuine  piety  in  all  classes  of 
Christians,  in  Trinitarians  and  Unitarians,  in  Calvinists 
and  Arminians,  in  Episcopalians,  Methodists,  Baptists,  and 
Congregationalists,  and  delighting  in  this  character  wher- 
ever it  appears,  we  are  little  anxious  to  bring  men  over  to 
our  peculiar  opinions.  I  could  smile  at  the  idea  of  a  Uni- 
tarian plot,  were  not  this  fiction  intended  to  answer  so  un 
worthy  an  end.  There  cannot  be  a  doubt,  that,  had  we 
seriously  united  for  the  purpose  of  spreading  Unitarianism 
by  any  and  every  means,  by  secret  insinuations  against 
those  who  differ  from  us,  by  uncharitable  denunciations, 
and  by  the  other  usual  arts  of  sects,  we  might  have  pro- 
duced in  this  part  of  the  country  a  Unitarian  heat  and 
bitterness  not  inferior  to  that  with  which  Trinitarianism  is 
too  often  advocated.  But  not  the  slightest  whisper  of  any 
concert  for  this  end  has  ever  reached  me  ;  and  as  to  these 
arts,  our  people  can  best  say  how  far  we  have  practised 
them.  Our  people  will  testify  how  little  we  have  sought 
to  influence  them  on  the  topics  of  dispute  among  Chris- 
tians, how  little  we  have  laboured  to  make  them  partisans, 
how  constantly  we  have  besought  them  to  look  with  candour 
on  other  denominations,  and  to  delight  in  all  the  marks 
which  others  exhibit  of  piety  and  goodness.  Our  great 
and  constant  object  has  been  to  promote  the  spirit  of 


HERESY   AND    EXCLUSION.  395 

Christ,  and  we  have  been  persuaded  that  in  this  way  we 
should  most  effectually  promote  the  interests  of  Christian 
truth 

"  I  now  come  to  the  third  head  of  the  Review,  which  I 
propose  to  consider.  The  Reviewer,  having  charged  us 
with  holding  the  opinions  of  Mr.  Belsham,  and  hypocriti- 
cally concealing  them,  solemnly  calls  on  Christians  who 
differ  from  us  in  sentiment  '  to  come  out  and  be  separate 
from  us,  and  to  withhold  communion  with  us.'  ....  This 
language  does  not  astonish  me,  when  I  recollect  the  cry  of 
heresy  which  has  been  so  loudly  raised  against  this  part  of 
the  country.  But  I  believe  that  this  is  the  first  instance 
in  which  Christians  have  been  deliberately  called  to  deny 
us  the  Christian  name  and  privileges.  As  such  let  it  be 
remembered;  and  let  the  consequences  of  it  lie  on  its 
authors. 

"Why  is  it  that  our  brethren  are  thus  instigated  to  cut 
us  off,  as  far  as  they  have  power,  from  the  body  and  church 
of  Christ  ?  Let  every  Christian  weigh  well  the  answer.  It 
is  not  because  we  refuse  to  acknowledge  Jesus  Christ  as 
our  Lord  and  Master ;  it  is  not  because  we  neglect  to 
study  his  word ;  it  is  not  because  our  lives  are  wanting  in 
the  spirit  and  virtues  of  his  gospel.  It  is  because,  after 
serious  investigation,  we  cannot  find  in  the  Scriptures,  and 
cannot  adopt  as  instructions  of  our  Master,  certain  doc- 
trines which  have  divided  the  Church  for  ages,  which  have 
perplexed  the  best  and  wisest  men,  and  which  are  very  dif- 
ferently conceived  even  by  those  who  profess  to  receive 
them.  It  is,  in  particular,  because  we  cannot  adopt  the 
language  of  our  brethren  in  relation  to  a  doctrine  which  we 
cannot  understand,  and  which  is  expressed  in  words  not 
only  unauthorized  by  the  Scripture,  but,  as  we  believe,  in 
words  employed  without  meaning  (unless  they  mean  that 
there  are  three  Gods)  by  those  who  insist  upon  them. 
This  is  our  crime,  that  we  cannot  think  and  speak  with  our 

s    3 


396  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

brethren  on  subjects  the  most  difficult  and  perplexing  on 
which  the  human  mind  was  ever  engaged.  For  this  we 
are  pursued  with  the  cry  of  heresy,  and  are  to  have  no  rest 
until  virtually  excommunicated  by  our  brethren 

"  Most  earnestly  do  I  wish  that  the  Dissertation  of  Dr. 
Campbell  on  Heresy,  in  his  Translation  of  the  Four  Gos- 
pels, was  more  generally  read  and  considered.  He  has 
proved,  I  think,  veiy  satisfactorily,  that  heresy,  as  the 
word  is  used  in  the  Scriptures,  does  not  consist  in  the 
adoption  or  profession  of  wrong  opinions,  but  in  a  spirit  of 
division,  of  dissension,  of  party,  in  a  factious  and  turbulent 
temper ;  and  that  the  heretic  is  not  a  man  who  entertains 
erroneous  or  even  injurious  sentiments,  but  one  who  loves 
to  be  called  Rabbi  and  master;  who  has  a  disposition  to 
separate  Christians,  to  create  or  to  extend  sects  and  parties. 

Let  Christians  weigh  well  the  nature  and  guilt  of 

schism,  the  consequences  of  separation,  and  the  spirit  of 
their  religion,  before  they  adopt  the  measure  recommended 
in  this  Review.  For  myself,  the  universe  would  not  tempt 
me  to  bear  a  part  in  this  work  of  dividing  Christ's  church, 
and  of  denouncing  his  followers.  If  there  be  an  act  which, 
above  all  others,  is  a  transgression  of  the  Christian  law,  it 

is  this I  know  it  will  be  said  that  Christians  are 

not  called  upon  to  reject  real  Christians,  but  heretics  and 
false  pretenders  to  the  name.  But  heresy,  we  have  seen, 
is  not  a  false  opinion,  but  a  sectarian  spirit ;  and  as  to  false 
pretences,  we  desire  those  who  know  us  to  put  their  hands 
on  their  hearts,  and  to  say  whether  they  can  for  a  moment 
believe  that  we  hypocritically  profess  to  follow  the  in- 
structions of  Jesus  Christ.  Does  charity  discover  nothing 
in  our  language  and  lives  to  justify  the  hope  that  we  are 
united  to  Jesus  Christ  by  love  for  his  character,  and  by 
participation  of  his  spirit  ? 

"  I  wish  that  my  motives  for  these  earnest  remonstrances 
against  division  may  be  understood.  I  feel  as  little  per- 


GOOD-WILL   TO    OPPONENTS.  397 

sonal  interest  in  the  subject  as  any  individual  in  the  com- 
munity. Were  the  proposed  separation  to  take  place,  I. 
should  still  enjoy  the  ordinances  of  the  gospel  in  the  society 
of  those  whom  I  best  love.  The  excommunication  which  is 
threatened  gives  me  no  alarm.  I  hear  this  angry  thunder 
murmur  at  a  distance,  with  as  little  concern  as  if  it  were 
the  thunder  of  the  Pope,  from  whom  it  seems  indeed  to  be 
borrowed.  But  whilst  I  fear  nothing  for  myself,  I  do  fear 
and  feel  for  that  body  of  which  Christ  is  the  head,  which 
has  been  bleeding  for  ages  under  the  contests  of  Christians, 
and  which  is  now  threatened  with  a  new  wound.  I  feel  for 
the  cause  of  our  common  Christianity,  which  I  am  set  to 
defend,  and  which  has  suffered  inconceivably  more  from 
the  bad  passions  and  divisions  of  its  friends  than  from  all 
the  arts  and  violence  of  its  foes.  I  cannot  but  look  forward 
with  pain  to  the  irritations,  hatreds,  bitter  recriminations, 
censoriousness,  spiritual  pride,  and  schismatical  spirit  which 
will  grow  up  under  this  system  of  denunciation  and  ex- 
clusion, and  which  may  not  only  convulse  many  churches 
at  the  present  moment,  but  will  probably  end  in  most  un- 
happy divisions  among  the  very  Christians  who  denounce 
us ;  who  seem  indeed  to  be  united,  now  that  a  common 
enemy  is  to  be  trodden  under  foot,  but  who  have  sufficient 
diversities  of  opinion  to  awaken  against  each  other  all  the 
fury  of  intolerance,  wheu  this  shall  have  become  the 
temper  and  habit  of  their  minds.  I  repeat  it,  i  have  no 
interest  in  this  point  but  as  a  Christian;  and  as  such,  I 
look  with  a  degree  of  horror  on  this  attempt  to  inflame  and 
distract  our  churches.  Error  of  opinion  is  an  evil  too 
trifling  to  be  named  in  comparison  with  this  practical  de- 
parture from  the  gospel,  with  this  proud,  censorious,  over- 
bearing temper,  which  says  to  a  large  body  of  Christians, 

'  Stand  off,  we  are  holier  than  you.' 

"  Having  thus  considered  the  three  principal  heads  in 
the  Review,  I  now  proceed  to  offer  a  few  words  of  friendly 


398  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

admonition,  as  to  the  temper  and  conduct  which  become 
our  brethren  and  ourselves,  under  the  injuries  which  we 
receive. 

"  The  first  suggestion  you  have  undoubtedly  anticipated. 
It  is,  that  we  remember  the  great  duty  which  belongs  to  us 
as  Christians,  of  regarding  our  enemies  with  good- will,  if 
possible  with  a  degree  of  approbation,  at  least  with  dis- 
pleasure tempered  with  compassion As  to  the  great 

mass  of  those  Christians  who  view  us  with  so  much  jealousy, 
we  must  remember  that  they  know  us  only  by  report,  that 
they  believe  as  they  are  taught  by  men  to  whom  they 
ascribe  an  eminent  sanctity,  and  that  they  are  liable  to  be 
carried  away  on  this,  as  on  every  other  subject,  by  loud 
assertion,  and  by  addresses  to  their  fears.  Accustomed  as 
they  are  to  hear  us  branded  with  names  and  epithets,  to 
which  they  have  attached  no  definite  ideas,  but  which  seem 
to  them  to  express  every-  thing  depraved,  can  we  wonder 
that  they  shrink  from  us  with  a  kind  of  terror?  To  this 
great  class  of  our  opposers  we  certainly  owe  nothing  but 
kindness  ;  and  we  should  esteem  it  an  unspeakable  happi- 
ness, that  we  can  look  with  so  much  pleasure  and  hope  on 
those  by  whom  we  are  dreaded  and  shunned  ;  that  we  are 
not  obliged  by  our  system  to  regard  our  adversaries  as  the 
enemies  of  God,  and  the  objects  of  his  wrath.  On  this 
point,  above  all  others,  I  would  be  urgent.  Our  danger  is, 
that  reproach  will  hurry  us  into  language  or  conduct  unbe- 
coming the  spirit  of  our  Master.  Let  us  remember  that 
our  opposers  cannot  ultimately  injure  us,  unless  we  permit 
them  to  awaken  bad  passions,  and  to  impair  our  virtues. 
Let  us  remember  what  is  due  from  us  to  our  religion. 
The  more  uncharitable  our  age  is,  the  more  the  glory  of 
the  gospel  is  obscured  by  its  being  exhibited  as  a  source  of 
censoriousness  and  contention,  the  more  we  owe  it  to  our 
Lord  to  wipe  off  this  reproach  from  his  truth,  to  show  the 
loveliness  of  his  religion,  to  show  its  power  in  changing 


PERFECT    SINCERITY.  399 

the  heart  into  the  image  of  divine  forbearance  and  forgive- 
ness  

"  Another  important  suggestion  is  this : — Let  us  hold 

fast  our  uprightness That  our  churches  are  to  be 

generally  shaken  by  the  assault  which  is  made  upon  them, 
I  am  far  from  believing.  But  some  may  suffer.  It  is  not 
impossible  that  the  efforts  which  are  now  employed  to 
direct  against  us  the  uncharitableness  and  mistaken  zeal  of 
the  country,  and  to  spread  disaffection  through  the  most 
uninstructed  and  the  most  easily  excited  classes  of  society, 
may  produce  some  effect.  We  know  the  fluctuations  of  the 
human  mind.  We  know  that  the  sincerest  Christians  are 
often  unduly  influenced  by  timidity,  and  may  be  brought 
to  suspect  a  minister,  when  he  is  decried  as  a  heretic  who 
is  leading  souls  to  hell.  It  requires  more  strength  of 
nerves  and  more  independence  of  mind  than  all  good  people 
possess  to  withstand  this  incessant  clamour.  A  storm,  then, 
may  be  gathering  over  some  of  us,  and  the  sufferers  may  be 
tempted  to  bend  to  it.  But  God  forbid !  my  friend,  that 
any  of  us  should  give  support  to  the  aspersions  cast  on  our 
uprightness,  by  ever  suppressing  our  convictions,  or  speak- 
ing a  language  foreign  to  our  hearts.  Through  good  report 
and  through  evil  report,  let  us  with  simplicity  and  sincerity 
declare  what  we  believe  to  be  the  will  of  God  and  the  way 
to  heaven,  and  thus  secure  to  ourselves  that  peace  of  con- 
science which  is  infinitely  better  than  the  smiles  of  the 
world.  Let  us  never  forget  that  the  most  honoured  condi- 
tion on  earth  is  that  of  being  sufferers  for  the  sake  of 
righteousness,  for  adherence  to  what  we  deem  the  cause  of 
God  and  holiness ;  and  let  us  welcome  suffering,  if  it  shall 
be  appointed  us,  as  bringing  us  nearer  to  our  persecuted 
Lord  and  his  injured  apostles.  My  brother,  we  profess  to 
count  man's  judgment  as  a  light  thing,  to  esteem  this  world 
and  all  which  it  offers  to  be  vanity.  We  profess  to  look  up 
.  to  a  heavenly  inheritance,  and  to  hope  that  we  shall  one 


400  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

day  mingle  with  angels  and  just  men  made  perfect.  And 
with  these  sublime  hopes,  shall  we  tremble  before  frail  and 
fallible  fellow-creatures,  be  depressed  by  difficulties,  or 
shrink  from  the  expression  of  what  we  deem,  important  and 
useful  truth  ?  God  forbid ! 

"  I  have  time  to  add  but  one  more  suggestion.  Let  us 
beware  lest  opposition  and  reproach  lead  any  of  us  into  a 
sectarian  attachment  to  our  peculiar  opinions.  This  is  a 
danger  to  which  persons  of  ardent  and  irritable  temper  are 
peculiarly  exposed.  Too  many  of  us  are  apt  to  cling  to  a 
system  in  proportion  as  it  is  assailed,  to  consider  ourselves 
pledged  to  doctrines  which  we  have  openly  espoused,  to 
rally  round  them  as  if  our  own  honour  and  interest  were  at 
stake,  and  to  assert  them  with  more  and  more  positiveness, 
as  if  we  were  incapable  of  error.  This  is  the  infirmity  of 
our  frail  nature  ;  and  whilst  we  condem  it  in  others,  let  us 
not  allow  it  in  ourselves.  Let  us  be  what  we  profess  to  be, 
patient  inquirers  after  truth,  open  to  conviction,  willing  to 
listen  to  objections,  willing  to  renounce  error,  willing  to  be- 
lieve that  we,  as  well  as  others,  may  have  been  warped  in 
our  opinions  by  education  and  situation,  and  that  others 
may  have  acquired  important  truths  which,  through  weak- 
ness or  prejudice,  we  may  have  overlooked.  Were  we  a 
party  anxious  to  make  proselytes,  we  should  do  well  to  be 
positive  and  overbearing.  But  we  profess  to  be  anxious 
that  our  fellow-Christians  should  inquire  for  themselves 
into  the  difficulties  of  religion,  instead  of  implicitly  receiving 
what  we  have  embraced.  We  profess  to  believe  that  can- 
did and  impartial  research  will  guide  mankind  to  a  purer 
system  of  Christianity  than  is  now  to  be  found  in  any 
church  or  country  under  heaven.  Most  earnestly  do  I  hope 
that  we  shall  not  be  betrayed  by  any  violence  of  assault 
into  a  sectarian  heat  and  obstinacy,  which  will  discredit  our 
profession,  and  obstruct  this  glorious  reformation  of  the 
Church  of  God." 


LIBERAL   PREACHERS.  401 

EXTRACTS    FROM    REMARKS    ON    THE    REV.    DR.    WORCESTER'S 
LETTER   TO    MR.    CHAINING. 

August,  1815.  "  By  the  advice  of  friends  whose  judgment 
I  respect,  I  have  resolved  to  offer  to  the  public  some  re- 
marks on  the  letter  of  Dr.  Worcester  in  reply  to  mine 
addressed  to  Mr.  Thacher.  They  will  be  few  in  number, 
and  as  free  as  possible  from  personalities 

"  My  letter  to  Mr.  Thacher  is  considered  by  Dr.  Wor- 
cester as  bitter  and  severe  ;  but,  called  as  I  was  to  repel  the 
charge  of  immorality  brought  against  men  whose  virtue  and 
piety  I  know  and  honour,  and  to  whom  I  am  bound  by  ties 
of  friendship  and  Christian  affection,  I  felt  it  a  solemn  duty 
to  express  what  I  deemed  a  virtuous  indignation.  I  laboured, 
however,  to  temper  displeasui'e  with  Christian  moderation; 
and,  on  finishing  my  letter,  my  fear  was,  not  that  I  had 
expressed  an  improper  warmth,  but  that  I  should  be  con- 
sidered as  wanting  in  sensibility  to  the  injuries  done  to 
some  of  the  best  men  in  this  community.  I  know,  how- 
ever, the  many  weaknesses  and  imperfections  of  my  nature. 
I  may  have  erred,  for  the  provocation  was  great;  and  I 
sincerely  repeat  the  declaration  with  which  I  closed  my 
letter,  that  for  every  departure  from  the  spirit  of  the  gospel 
I  implore  the  Divine  forgiveness 

"  One  great  object  of  Dr.  Worcester's  letter,  if  I  under- 
stand him,  is  to  convey  to  his  readers  the  impression,  that 
the  mode  of  preaching  of  Liberal  ministers  is  '  concealed, 
indistinct,  and  unfaithful.'  This  he  attempts  to  prove, 
first,  from  the  statement  which  I  made  of  the  views  of 
Liberal  Christians  in  relation  to  the  character  of  Jesus 
Christ.  This  statement,  he  says,  is  ambiguous.  That  it  is 
general,  that  it  does  not  descend  to  particulars,  I  grant ; 
but  I  deny  that  it  is  ambiguous,  if  considered,  as  it  ought 
to  be,  in  relation  to  the  object  for  which  it  was  made.  It 
was  simply  designed  to  repel  the  charge  of  the  Reviewer, 


402  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

that  we  are  Unitarians  in  Mr.  Belsham's  sense  of  the  word. 
Was  it  necessary  that  in  such  a  statement  every  question 
should  be  met  and  answered,  which  might  possibly  be 

started  in  relation  to  our  sentiments  ? 

"  The  next  proof  of  our  preaching  in  a  '  concealed,  in- 
distinct, and  unfaithful  manner'  is  derived  from  the  account 

which  I  have  given  of  our  general  style  of  preaching 

My  statement  was  plainly  this : — that  we  labour  to  preach 
the  truth,  to  preach  whatever  we  clearly  discover  in  the 
word  of  God ;  but  that,  in  doing  this,  we  generally  avoid 
references  to  opinions  which  we  do  not  receive,  and  never 
hold  up  those  Christians  who  differ  from  us  to  censure  or 
contempt.  According  to  this  statement,  we  evidently  preach 
the  whole  counsel  of  God,  as  far  as  we  understand  it.  But 
Dr.  Worcester,  passing  over  this  account,  has  selected  a 
passage  in  which  I  observe  that  '  we  urge  perpetually  those 
great  truths  and  precepts  about  which  there  is  little  conten- 
tion, and  which  have  an  immediate  bearing  on  the  temper 
and  life.  From  this  passage  he  infers  that  we  can  urge 
none  of  the  '  primary  and  peculiar  doctrines  and  institutions 
of  the  gospel,  because  about  all  these  there  has  been  great 
contention.'  To  this  I  answer,  first,  that  I  have  never 
understood  that  there  has  been  much  contention  about  the 
'  great  precepts  '  of  the  gospel,  not  even  about  those  which 
have  been  most  habitually  diregarded.  Christians,  satisfied 
with  dismissing  these  from  their  lives,  have  retained  them 
in  their  systems.  Even  the  bitterest  persecutors  in  the 
Church  have  never  disputed  the  precepts  of  '  loving  their 
neighbour  as  themselves,'  and  of  '  doing  to  others  as  they 

would  have  others  do  to  them.' It  may  next  be 

observed,  that  the  common  disputes  about  the  '  great  doc- 
trines '  of  the  gospel  have  not  related  so  much  to  their 
truth  and  importance,  as  to  some  inferior  points  connected 
with  them.  For  example,  there  has  been  much  debate 
about  the  benevolence  of  God,  whether  it  forms  his  whole 


THEOLOGICAL   SYSTEMS.  403 

moral  character  and  his  highest  spring  of  action,  or  whether 
it  be  subordinate  to  wisdom  or  rectitude ;  but  all  parties 
have  agreed  that  God  is  benevolent.  In  the  same  manner, 
many  have  disputed  about  the  omnipresence  of  God,  whether 
his  substance  be  extended  through  infinite  space,  or  whether 
he  be  present  only  by  his  knowledge  and  power  to  every 
portion  of  space ;  but  all  have  agreed  that  God  is  omni- 
present. In  like  manner,  Christians  have  disputed  about 
the  precise  way  in  which  Christ's  death  has  an  influence  on 
our  forgiveness ;  but  that  it  has  a  real  and  important  in- 
fluence on  forgiveness  almost  all  unite  in  asserting.  Once 
more,  Christians  have  never  been  weary  with  disputing  on 
the  mode  and  extent  of  spiritual  influences ;  but,  with  very 
few  exceptions,  all  maintain  that  these  influences  are  real, 
and  are  promised  to  our  prayers.  Let  no  one,  then,  say, 
that  we  preach  no  primary  or  peculiar  doctrines  of  Chris- 
tianity, because  we  insist  perpetually  on  principles  in  which 
the  different  classes  of  Christians  generally  concur.  Such 
principles,  we  sincerely  believe,  form  the  very  substance 
and  glory  of  the  gospel.  They  shine  with  a  clear  and  un- 
sullied splendour.  We  are  deeply  impressed  with  their 
truth,  their  supreme  importance,  and  their  sufficiency  to 
salvation ;  and  therefore  we  urge  them  with  unwearied  im- 
portunity, with  zeal  and  affection. 

"  It  is  possible  that  Dr.  Worcester  will  go  on  to  object, 
that,  according  to  this  very  account,  our  preaching  must  be 
extremely  general,  vague,  wanting  in  precision,  and  there- 
fore unfaithful.  The  answer  is  short.  If  we  are  indeed 
general  and  vague  in  our  representation  of  the  truths  of  the 
gospel,  it  is  because  we  are  faithful,  because  we  dare  not  be 
precise  above  what  is  written,  because  we  stop  where  the 
Scriptures  seem  to  us  to  stop,  and  because  we  have  a  very 
deep  and  sorrowful  persuasion  that  our  religion  has  been 
exceedingly  defaced  and  corrupted  by  the  bold  attempts  of 
theologians  to  give  minute  explanations  of  its  general  truths, 


404  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

and  to  cramp  it  with  the  fetters  of  systematic  precision. 
We  tell  our  hearers,  that  God  sent  his  Son  to  die  for  us, 
exalted  him  to  be  our  Prince  and  Saviour,  and  ordained 
him  to  be  Judge  of  the  quick  and  dead,  and  never  think  it 
necessary  or  faithful  to  fill  up  the  outline  of  Scripture,  by 
adding,  that  the  Son  who  was  sent  was  the  very  God  who 
sent  him,  or  by  speculating  on  the  infinite  evil  of  sin,  and 
on  the  necessity  of  an  infinite  atonement,  in  order  to  illus- 
trate the  fitness  of  such  a  mediator.  Thus,  then,  we  preach. 
Whether  our  preaching  be  nothing  more  than  the  inculca- 
tion of  '  natural  religion,'  let  our  hearers  determine. 

"  Dr.  Worcester  asks,  if  the  '  apostles  avoided  contro- 
versy,' and  never  'attempted  to  refute  error,'  &c.  We 
think  the  answer  very  obvious.  In  the  first  place,  we 
wonder  that  any  cau  confound  the  situation  of  ministers  in 
a  Christian  country,  where  the  gospel  has  long  been  known 
and  acknowledged,  with  the  situation  of  the  apostles,  who 
preached  a  new  religion  which  the  multitude  derided  and 
opposed,  and  which  their  new  and  ignorant  converts  were 
continually  corrupting  with  Jewish  and  heathen  mixtures. 
We  sincerely  believe  that  the  great  principles  for  which  the 
apostles  contended  are  now  received  with  little  dispute  in 
Christian  communities,  and  we  conceive  that  the  great 
business  of  a  minister  is  to  urge  those  truths  in  their 
primitive  simplicity  on  the  hearts  and  consciences  of  men, 
instead  of  making  them  subjects  of  controversy. 

"  There  is  another  important  remark  on  this  point.  We 
do  not  pass  sentence  like  apostles  on  many  subjects  of  con- 
troversy among  Christians,  for  this  very  plain  reason — that 
we  are  not  apostles.  We  are,  what  we  labour  never  to 
forget,  uninspired  and  fallible  men ;  and  we  are  apt  to  dis- 
trust ourselves,  when  persons  of  intelligence  and  piety  see 
cause  to  differ  from  us  in  the  interpretation  of  Scripture. 
We  dare  not  preach  like  apostles  on  points  which  have  per- 
plexed and  divided  men  of  the  profoundest  thought  and  the 


LOVE    OF   TRUTH.  405 

purest  lives ;  and  we  know  from  the  genius  and  leading 
principles  of  Christianity,  that  these  points  are  not,  and 
cannot  be,  essential  to  salvation.  We  dare  not  imitate  the 
bold  and  positive  language  in  which  the  darkest  doctrines 
are  sometimes  urged  as  undoubted  and  essential,  and  in 
which  the  sentence  of  excommunication  is  pronounced  on 
serious  inquirers  after  truth,  by  some  who  discover  no 
superiority  of  intellect  or  virtue 

"  It  is  urged,  that  our  sentiments  lead  us  into  an  entire 
indifference  to  Christian  truth ;  that  we  believe  all  error  to 
be  innocent;  that  we  consider  belief  in  the  truth  as  no 
virtue ;  and  that  we  thus  set  aside  those  passages  of  Scrip- 
ture in  which  the  highest  importance  is  attached  to  this 
belief.  This  objection  is  founded  on  our  extending  the 
name  and  privileges  of  Christians  to  the  lowest  Unitarians, 
who  hold  some  sentiments  from  which,  as  I  stated,  we 
generally  shrink  with  aversion.  Now  I  deny  that  any  in- 
difference to  truth,  or  any  contempt  of  those  passages  which 
enjoin  belief  of  the  truth,  is  implied  in  this  extension  of 
our  charity The  faith  to  which  salvation  is  pro- 
mised in  Scripture  seems  to  us  to  reside  in  the  heart  much 
more  than  in  the  understanding.  The  true  believer  is 
distinguished,  not  by  clearness  and  extent  of  views,  but  by 
a  '  love  of  light,'  a  '  love  of  the  truth,'  originating  in  a 
sincere  desire  to  '  do  the  will  of  God.' 

"  This  love  of  divine  truth,  this  honest,  unprejudiced, 
obedient  mind,  we  highly  venerate  and  always  enjoin  as 
essential  to  salvation.  But  we  know  that  this  love  of  truth 
is  consistent  with  the  reception  of  many  errors.  We  know 
that  the  apostles,  during  the  life  of  their  Master,  possessed 
this  temper  in  a  sufficient  degree  to  constitute  them  his 
followers,  and  yet  they  grossly  misunderstood  some  of  his 
plainest  and  most  important  declarations.  We  believe,  too, 
that,  at  the  present  day,  many  in  every  Christian  country 
are  placed  in  circumstances  almost,  if  not  quite,  as  unfavour- 


400  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

able  to  a  clear  understanding  of  the  gospel,  as  the  apostles 
were  under  the  ministry  of  Jesus.  From  considerations  of 
this  nature,  from  a  knowledge  of  the  amazing  power  of 
education  and  other  circumstances  over  the  opinions  of 
every  mind,  and  from  a  fear  that  we,  as  well  as  others,  may 
have  been  swayed  and  blinded  by  unsuspected  infelicities 
attending  our  condition,  we  are  very  unwilling  to  decide  on 
the  degree  of  truth  which  is  required  for  the  salvation  of 
every  individual,  or  to  say  that  the  errors  of  an  apparently 
sincere  professor  of  Christianity  are  inconsistent  with  a 
pious  character.  In  our  judgment  of  professed  Christians, 
we  are  guided  more  by  their  temper  and  lives  than  by  any 
peculiarities  of  opinion.  We  lay  it  down  as  a  great  and 
indisputable  principle,  clear  as  the  sun  at  noonday,  that  the 
great  end  for  which  Christian  truth  is  revealed  is  the 
sanctification  of  the  soul,  the  formation  of  the  Christian 
character :  and  wherever  we  see  the  marks  of  this  character 
displayed  in  a  professed  disciple  of  Jesus,  we  hope,  and 
rejoice  to  hope,  that  he  has  received  all  the  truth  which  is 
necessary  to  his  salvation.  Acting  on  this  rule,  we  cannot 
exclude  from  the  Church  the  lowest  Unitarians  who  profess 
subjection  to  Jesus  Christ.  Of  this  class  we  have  known 
or  heard  of  individuals  who  have  breathed  the  genuine 
spirit  of  their  Master;  who  have  discovered  a  singular 
conscientiousness  in  all  the  walks  of  life ;  whose  charity 
has  overflowed  in  good  deeds ;  whose  wills  have  been  re- 
signed in  affliction ;  and  who  lived  as  seeking  a  better 
country,  even  a  heavenly.  Such  men  we  have  not  dared 
to  exclude  from  the  Christian  Church,  on  the  ground  of 
what  seem  to  us  great  errors,  any  more  than  to  exclude  the 
disciples  of  Calvin ;  whose  errors  we  also  deeply  lament, 
but  whose  errors  are  often  concealed  from  us  by  the  bright- 
ness of  their  Christian  virtues. 

"  We  are  not  conscious  that  by  this  liberality  we  at  all 
oppose  those  passages  of  Scripture  in  which  great  stress  is 


VERBAL   DIFFERENCES.  407 

laid  upon  belief  of  the  truth ;  for  we  are  convinced,  from 
laborious  research  into  the  Scriptures,  that  the  great  truth 
which  is  the  object  of  Christian  belief,  and  which  in  the 
first  age  conferred  the  character  of  disciples  on  all  who 
received  it,  is  simply  this,  that  Jesus  is  the  Christ,  or 
anointed  by  God  to  be  the  light  and  Saviour  of  the  world. 
Whenever  this  great  truth  appears  to  us  to  be  sincerely 
acknowledged,  whenever  a  man  of  apparent  uprightness 
declares  to  us  his  reception  of  Jesus  in  this  character,  and 
his  corresponding  purpose  to  study  and  obey  his  religion, 
we  feel  ourselves  bound  to  give  him  the  hand  of  Christian 
fellowship,  and  to  leave  it  to  the  final  Judge  to  determine 
how  far  he  is  faithful  in  searching  after  the  will  of  his 
Lord.  This  duty  of  searching,  and  of  searching  with 
humility  and  with  a  single  and  fearless  regard  to  truth,  we 
constantly  inculcate ;  and  we  sincerely  believe  that  in  this 
way  we  approve  ourselves  friends  of  truth  much  more 
decidedly  than  if  we  should  aim  to  terrify  and  prostrate  the 
minds  of  our  hearers  by  threatening  them  with  everlasting 
misery,  unless  they  receive  the  peculiar  views  of  the  gospel 

which  we  have  seen  fit  to  espouse 

"  The  principal  argument  which  Dr.  Worcester  offers  in 
favour  of  the  proposed  separation  of  Trinitarians  and  Uni- 
tarians is  the  greatness  of  the  differences  between  them. 
I  sincerely  regret  that  these  differences  are  so  studiously 
magnified,  whilst  the  points  of  agreement  between  these 
classes  of  Christians  are  as  studiously  overlooked.  Dr.  Watts 
and  Dr.  Doddridge  have  left  us  a  better  example.  Trinita- 
rians and  Unitarians  both  believe  in  one  God,  one  infinite 
and  self-existent  mind.  According  to  the  first,  this  God  is 
three  persons ;  according  to  the  last,  he  is  one  person.  Ought 
this  difference,  which  relates  to  the  obscurest  of  all  subjects, 
to  the  essence  and  metaphysical  nature  of  God,  and  which 
common  Christians  cannot  understand,  to  divide  and  alienate 
those  who  ascribe  to  this  one  God  the  same  perfections, 


408  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

who  praise  him  for  the  same  blessings,  who  hope  from  his 
mercy  the  same  forgiveness,  who  receive  on  his  authority 
the  same  commands,  and  who  labour  to  maintain  the  same 
spirit  of  devotion  to  his  will  and  glory?  According  to 
Trinitarians,  Jesus,  who  suffered  and  died  on  the  cross,  is  a 
derived  being,  personally  united  with  the  self-existent  God. 
According  to  the  Unitarians,  he  is  a  derived  being,  inti- 
mately united  with  the  self-existent  God.  Ought  this  differ- 
ence, which  transcends  the  conception  of  common  Chris- 
tians, to  divide  and  alienate  those  who  love  the  same  excel- 
lent character  in  Jesus  Christ,  who  desire  to  breathe  his 
spirit  and  follow  his  steps,  who  confide  in  him  as  perfectly 
adapted  to  the  work  which  he  was  sent  to  accomplish,  and 
who  labour  to  derive  just  conceptions  of  his  nature  from  his 
own  instructions?  The  differences  between  Trinitarians 
and  Unitarians  are  very  often  verbal.  As  soon  as  Trini- 
tarians attempt  to  show  the  consistency  of  their  doctrine  of 
three  persons  with  the  Divine  unity,  their  peculiarities 
begin  to  vanish,  and  in  many  of  their  wri tings  little  or 
nothing  is  left  but  one  God  acting  in  three  characters,  or 
sustaining  three  relations,  and  intimately  united  with  his 
son  Jesus  Christ.  Ought  distinctions  so  subtile  and  per- 
plexing to  separate  those  who  love  the  same  Divine  character 
and  respect  the  same  Divine  will  ? 

"  Dr.  Worcester,  however,  seems  disposed  to  widen  the 
breach  between  these  classes  of  believers.  He  says,  the 
Saviour  'whom  you  acknowledge  is  infinitely  inferior  to 
ours.'  I  answer,  we  believe  that  God  saves  us  by  his  son 
Jesus  Christ,  in  whom  he  dwells,  and  through  whom  he 
bestows  pardon  and  eternal  life.  A  higher  Saviour  we  do 
not  know  and  cannot  conceive.  But  Dr.  Worcester  does 
not  stop  here.  He  says,  '  The  God  whom  you  worship  is 
different  from  ours.1  To  this  I  answer,  as  others  have 
answered  before,  that  I  with  my  brethren  worship  '  the 
God  of  Abraham,  of  Isaac,  and  of  Jacob,  who  hath  glorified 


INTOLERANCE.  409 

his  son  Jesus,'  whom  Peter  preached — Acts  iii.  We  worship 
'  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,'  to  whom 
Paul  '  bowed  the  knee.'  We  worship  that  God  whom 
Jesus  in  his  last  moments  worshipped,  when  he  said, 
'  Father,  into  thy  hands  I  commend  my  spirit.'  We  wor- 
ship that  God  to  whom  our  Lord  directed  us,  when  he  put 
into  our  lips  these  affecting  words,  '  Our  Father  who  art  in 
heaven.'  We  worship  that  God  of  whom  our  Master  spoke 
in  these  memorable  words — '  The  hour  cometh,  and  now  is, 
when  the  true  worshippers  shall  worship  the  Father  in 
spirit  and  in  truth.'  Dr.  Worcester  speaks  of  a  different 
God  ;  but  we  can  renounce  ours  for  no  other.  This  worship 
we  are  persuaded  is  a  spring  of  purity,  joy,  and  hope,  and 
we  trust  that  it  will  prove  to  us  a  source  of  unfailing  con- 
solation amidst  the  trials,  reproaches,  and  rude  assaults 
of  the  world. — But  I  must  stop.  The  points  of  dispute 
between  Unitarians  and  Trinitarians  cannot  be  treated 
with  any  fairness  within  the  narrow  compass  of  a  pamphlet, 
and  I  wish  not  to  discuss  them  in  connection  with  the 
present  controversy,  which  primarily  relates  to  the  moral 
character  of  the  great  body  of  Liberal  Christians. 

"  Dr.  Worcester  has  laboured  to  show,  that  charity,  in- 
stead of  forbidding,  encourages  and  requires  Trinitarians 
to  exclude  Unitarians  from  Christian  fellowship  because 
charity  commands  us  to  promote  truth,  and  truth  is  pro- 
moted by  this  system  of  exclusion.  But  let  me  ask,  Why 
is  truth  to  be  promoted  ?  Not  for  its  own  sake,  but  for  its 
influence  on  the  heart,  its  influence  in  forming  a  Christian 
temper.  In  what,  then,  does  this  temper  consist?  very 
much  in  candour,  forbearance,  and  kind  affection.  It  fol- 
lows, that  any  method  of  promoting  truth  which  is  un- 
friendly to  these  virtues  is  unchristian  ;  it  sacrifices  the  end 
to  the  means  of  religion.  Now  let  me  ask,  whether  the 
practice  of  rejecting  as  ungodly  men,  those  who  differ  from 
us  on  subtile,  perplexing,  and  almost  (if  not  altogether) 


410  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

unintelligible  doctrines,  be  not  obviously  and  directly  op- 
posed to  the  exercise  and  diffusion  of  candour,  forbearance, 
kind  affection,  and  peace.  Has  it  not  actually  convulsed 
the  Church  for  ages  with  discord  and  war  ?  The  right  of 
denouncing  those  who  differ  on  such  doctrines,  if  granted 
to  one  Christian,  must  be  granted  to  all ;  and  do  we  need 
the  spirit  of  prophecy  to  foretell  the  consequences,  if  the 
ignorant,  passionate,  and  enthusiastic,  who  form  the  majority 
of  every  community,  shall  undertake  to  carry  this  right  into 
practice  ?  The  idea,  that  a  religion  which  is  designed  for 
weak  and  fallible  mortals  of  all  classes  and  capacities,  and 
which  is  designed  to  promote  unity,  peace,  candour,  and 
love,  should  yet  make  it  our  duty  to  reject,  as  wholly  desti- 
tute of  goodness,  every  man,  however  uniform  in  conduct, 
who  cannot  see  as  we  do  on  points  where  we  ourselves  see 
little  or  nothing,  appears  to  me  the  grossest  contradiction 
and  absurdity.  If  this  be  Christianity,  we  may  say  any 
thing  of  our  religion  more  truly,  than  that  it  is  a  religion 
of  peace.  A  more  effectual  instrument  of  discord  was 
never  devised.  Charity,  then,  does  not  command  the 
Trinitarian  to  exclude  his  Unitarian  brother.  Charity 
commands  us  to  use  mildness  and  persuasion ;  to  open  our 
eyes  to  the  marks  of  virtue  in  those  from  whom  we  differ ; 
to  beware  of  ascribing  error  to  a  corrupt  heart,  unless  the 
proof  be  striking ;  to  think  modestly  of  ourselves,  and  to 
drive  from  our  minds  the  conceit  of  infallibility,  that  most 
dangerous  error  which  ever  crept  into  the  Church  of 
Christ."* 

*  "  I  cannot  forbear  earnestly  desiring  Christians  to  obtain,  if  possible, 
some  accurate  ideas  of  the  most  important  point  in  the  present  contro- 
versy. Let  them  learn  the  distinction  between  Trinitarianism  and 
Unitarianism.  Many  use  these  words  without  meaning,  and  are  very 
zealous  about  sounds.  Some  suppose  that  Trinitarianism  consists  in 
believing  in  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Spirit.  But  we  all 
believe  in  these ;  we  all  believe  that  the  Father  sent  the  Son,  and  gives, 


THE    SUPREME    GOD.  411 

EXTRACTS    FROM   REMARKS    ON    THE    REV.    DR.    WORCESTER'S 
SECOND    LETTER   TO    MR.    CHANNING. 

November,  1815.  "  As  far  as  I  understand  the  prevalent 
sentiments  among  Liberal  Christians  in  this  quarter  of  our 
country,  they  appear  to  me  substantially  to  agree  with  the 
views  of  Dr.  Samuel  Clarke  and  the  author  of  Bible  News ; 
and  were  we  required  to  select  human  leaders  in  religion, 
I  believe  that  we  should  range  ourselves  under  their 
standard  in  preference  to  any  other. 

to  those  that  ask,  the  Holy  Spirit.  We  are  all  Trinitarians,  if  this 
belief  is  Trinitarianism.  But  it  is  not.  The  Trinitarian  believes  that  the 
One  God  is  three  distinct  persons,  called  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost ; 
and  he  believes  that  each  of  these  persons  is  equal  to  the  other  two  in 
every  perfection,  that  each  is  the  only  true  God,  and  yet  that  the  three 
are  only  one  God.  This  is  Trinitarianism.  The  Unitarian  believes  that 
there  is  but  one  person  possessing  supreme  Divinity,  even  the  Father. 
This  is  the  great  distinction;  let  it  be  kept  steadily  in  view.  Some 
Christians  have  still  more  vague  ideas  on  this  subject.  They  suppose 
that  Trinitarians  think  highly  of  Jesus  Christ,  whilst  Unitarians  form 
low  ideas  of  him,  hardly  ranking  him  above  common  men,  and  therefore 
they  choose  to  be  Trinitarians.  This  is  a  great  error.  Some  Unitarians 
believe  that  the  Father  is  so  intimately  united  with  Jesus  Christ,  that  it 
is  proper,  on  account  of  this  union,  to  ascribe  Divine  honour  and  titles  to 
Jesus  Christ.  Some  Unitarians  deny  that  Jesus  is  a  creature,  and  affirm 
that  he  is  properly  the  Son  of  God,  possessing  a  Divine  nature  derived 
from  the  Father.  Some  Unitarians,  who  assert  that  Jesus  is  a  creature, 
maintain  that  he  is  literally  the  first-born  of  the  creation,  the  first  pro- 
duction of  God,  the  instrumental  cause  by  whom  God  created  all  other 
beings,  and  the  most  exalted  being  in  the  universe,  with  the  single  ex- 
ception of  the  Infinite  Father.  I  am  persuaded  that  under  these  classes 
of  high  Unitarians  many  Christians  ought  to  be  ranked  who  call  them- 
selves Orthodox  and  Trinitarians.  In  fact,  as  the  word  Trinity  is  some- 
times used,  we  all  believe  it.  It  is  time  that  this  word  was  better 
defined.  Christians  ought  not  to  be  separated  by  a  sound.  A  doctrine 
which  we  are  called  to  believe,  as  we  value  our  souls  and  our  standing  in 
the  Church,  ought  to  be  stated  with  a  precision  which  cannot  be  mis- 
understood. By  the  Trinity,  I  have  all  along  understood  the  doctrine, 
that  God  is  three  persons." 

VOL.  I.  T 


412  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

"  Dr  Clarke  believed  that  the  FATHER  ALONE  is  the 
Supreme  God,  and  that  Jesus  Christ  is  not  the  Supreme 
God,  but  derived  his  being  and  all  his  power  and  honours 
from  the  Father,  even  from  an  act  of  the  Father's  power 
and  will.  He  maintains,  that,  as  the  Scriptures  have  not 
taught  us  the  manner  in  which  the  Son  derived  his  ex- 
istence from  his  Father,  it  is  presumptuous  to  affirm  that 
the  Son  was  created,  or  that  there  was  a  time  when  he  did 
not  exist.  On  these  subjects  the  word  of  God  has  not 
given  us  light,  and  therefore  we  ought  to  be  silent.  The 
author  of  Bible  News  in  like  manner  affirms  that  the 
Father  only  is  the  Supreme  God,  that  Jesus  is  a  distinct 
being  from  God,  and  that  he  derives  every  thing  from  his 
Father.  He  has  some  views  relating  to  the  'proper  Son- 
ship  '  of  God,  which  neither  Liberal  nor  '  Orthodox '  Chris- 
tians generally  embrace.  But  the  prevalent  sentiments 
of  Liberal  Christians  seem  to  me  to  accord  substantially 
with  the  systems  I  have  above  described.  Like  Dr.  Clarke, 
the  majority  of  this  class  feel  that  the  Scriptures  have  not 
taught  the  mode  of  Christ's  derivation.  They,  therefore, 
do  not  call  Christ  a  creature,  but  leave  the  subject  in  the 
obscurity  in  which  they  find  it,  carrying  with  them,  how- 
ever, an  impression  that  the  Scriptures  ascribe  to  Jesus  the 
character  of  Son  of  God  in  a  peculiarly  high  sense,  and 
in  a  sense  in  which  it  is  ascribed  to  no  other  being. 

"  With  respect  to  the  ATONEMENT,  the  great  body  of 
Liberal  Christians  seem  to  me  to  accord  precisely  with  the 
author  of  Bible  News,  or  rather  both  agree  very  much  with 
the  profound  Butler.  Both  agree  that  Jesus  Christ,  by  his 
sufferings  and  intercession,  obtains  forgiveness  for  sinful 
men;  or  that,  on  account,  or  in  consequence,  of  what  Christ 
has  done  and  suffered,  the  punishment  of  sin  is  averted 
from  the  penitent,  and  blessings  forfeited  by  sin  are 
bestowed.  It  is,  indeed,  very  true,  that  Unitarians  say 
nothing  about  infinite  atonement,  and  they  shudder  when 


ALL    CHRISTIANS    BRETHREN.  41 3 

they  hear  it  asserted  that  the  ever-blessed  God  suffered  and 
died  on  the  cross.  They  reject  these  representations,  because 
they  find  not  one  passage  in  Scripture  which  directly  asserts 
them  or  gives  them  support.  Not  one  word  do  we  hear 
from  Christ  or  his  apostles  of  an  infinite  atonement.  In 
not  one  solitary  text  is  the  efficacy  of  Christ's  death  in  ob- 
taining forgiveness  ascribed  to  his  being  the  Supreme  God. 
All  this  is  theology  of  man's  making,  and  strongly  marked 
with  the  hand  of  its  author.  But  the  doctrine  of  the 
Atonement,  taken  in  the  broad  sense  which  I  have  before 
stated,  is  not  rejected  by  Unitarians.  On  the  question, 
which  is  often  asked,  How  the  death  of  Christ  has  this 
blessed  influence,  they  generally  think  that  the  Scriptures 
have  given  us  little  light,  and  that  it  is  the  part  of  wisdom 
to  accept  the  kind  appointment  of  God,  without  construct- 
ing theories  for  which  the  materials  must  be  chiefly  bor- 
rowed from  our  own  imagination. 

"  My  motive  for  making  the  preceding  statement  is  no 
other  than  a  desire  to  contribute  whatever  may  be  in  my 
power  to  the  peace  of  our  churches.  I  have  hoped,  that,  by 
this  representation,  some  portion  of  the  charity  which  has 
been  expressed  towards  Dr.  Clarke  and  the  author  of  Bible 
News  may  be  extended  towards  other  Unitarians  ;  and  that 
thus  the  ecclesiastical  division  which  is  threatened  may  be 
averted.  Let  it  not,  however,  be  imagined  that  I  or  my 
friends  are  anxious  on  our  own  account  to  extort  from  the 
'  Orthodox  '  an  acknowledgment,  that  possibly  we  hold  the 
true  gospel,  and  are  not  '  devoid  of  Christian  faith  and 
virtue.'  We  regard  other  Christians  as  brethren,  but  can 
in  no  degree  recognise  them  as  superiors  in  the  Church  of 
our  common  master.  We  do  not  dread  the  censures  which 
they  may  pass  on  our  honest  opinions.  We  rejoice  that  we 
have  a  higher  judge,  whose  truth  it  is  our  labour  to  learn, 
obey,  and  maintain,  and  whose  favour  will  be  distributed 
by  other  principles  than  those  which  prevail  in  a  prejudiced 
and  short-sighted  world.  But,  whilst  we  mean  not  to  be 

t  T  2 


4J4  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

suitors  to  our  brethren,  we  are  willing  and  desirous,  by  any 
fair  representations,  to  save  them  from  a  course  which,  as 
we  firmly  believe,  will  be  injurious  to  their  own  characters, 
unjust  to  their  fellow-Christians,  unfriendly  to  the  diffusion 
of  the  gospel,  and  highly  offensive  to  our  benevolent  Master. 
Most  happy  should  I  be,  if,  by  any  honourable  concessions 
on  our  part,  our  churches  could  be  preserved  from  the 
shock  which  threatens  them.  .  .  .  ,  . 

"  It  is  intimated  that  ice  '  dread  a  development.'  We 
respect  many  of  our  opponents,  but  we  dread  none.  Our 
love  of  peace,  they  may  be  assured,  has  another  origin  than 
fear  or  selfish  views.  It  is  from  deep  conviction,  that  I 
have  stated  once  and  again,  that  the  differences  between 
Unitarians  and  Trinitarians  lie  more  in  sounds  than  in 
ideas ;  that  a  barbarous  phraseology  is  the  chief  wall  of 
partition  between  these  classes  of  Christians ;  and  that 
would  Trinitarians  tell  us  what  they  mean,  their  system 
would  generally  be  found  little  else  than  a  mystical  form 
of  the  Unitarian  doctrine.  These  two  classes  of  Christians 
appear  to  me  to  concur  in  receiving  the  most  interesting 
and  practical  truths  of  the  gospel.  Both  believe  in  one 
God  of  infinite  perfection ;  and  we  must  remember  that  it 
is  this  perfection  of  God,  and  not  his  unknown  substance, 
which  is  the  proper  object  of  the  Christian's  love.  Both 
believe  in  the  great  doctrine,  that  eternal  life  is  the  free 
gift  of  God  through  Jesus  Christ.  Both  learn  from  the 
lips  and  life  of  Jesus  the  same  great  principles  of  duty,  the 
same  exalted  views  of  human  perfection,  and  the  same  path 
to  immortality.  I  could  easily  extend  these  points  of  agree- 
ment. And  what  are  the  questions  which  divide  them  ? 
Why,  these:— First,  Whether  the  One  God  be  three  dis- 
tinct subsistences*,  or  three  persons,  or  three  'somewhats  'f 
called  persons,  as  Dr.  Worcester  says,  for  want  of  a  '  better 

*  ""Wardlaw." 

t  "  This  word  has  been  used  by  Trinitarians  in  writing  and  conversa- 
tion." 


THE    ESSENCE    OF   RELIGION.  415 

word ; '  and  secondly,  Whether  one  of  these  three  sub- 
sistences, or  improperly  called  persons,  formed  a  personal 
union  with  a  human  soul,  so  that  the  Infinite  Mind,  and  a 
human  mind,  each  possessing  its  own  distinct  conscious- 
ness, became  a  complex  person.  Such  are  the  points,  or 
rather  phrases,  of  difference  between  these  Christians. 
And  ought  phrases  like  these — of  which  we  find  not  a 
trace  in  the  Bible,  which  cannot  be  defined  by  those  who 
employ  them,  which  convey  to  common  minds  no  more 
meaning  than  words  of  an  unknown  tongue,  and  which 
present  to  the  learned  only  flitting  shadows  of  thought, 
instead  of  clear  and  steady  conceptions — to  separate  those 
who  are  united  in  the  great  principles  which  I  have  stated? 
Trinitarians,  indeed,  are  apt  to  suppose  themselves  at  an 
immeasurable  distance  from  Unitarians.  The  reason,  I 
think,  is,  that  they  are  surrounded  with  a  mist  of  obscure 
phraseology.  Were  this  mist  dispersed,  I  believe  that 
they  would  be  surprised  at  discovering  their  proximity  to 
the  Unitarians,  and  would  learn  that  they  had  been  wasting 
their  hostility  on  a  band  of  friends  and  brothers."  * 

June,  1818.  WHAT  is  RELIGION  f?  "  We  may  answer 
in  general  that  religion  consists  in  a  moral  resemblance  of 
God, — in  a  willing,  a  chosen,  a  conscientious,  and  habitual 
conformity  to  his  commands,  as  our  supreme  rule  of  life, 
and  our  highest  happiness, — in  supreme  love  of  God, — in 
doing  to  others  as  we  would  that  others  should  do  to  us, — 
and  in  keeping  ourselves  unspotted  from  the  world.  The 
seat  of  religion  is  the  heart ;  and  this  emphatically  is  the 
will  of  God,  even  our  sanctification ;  a  separation  of  our 
hearts,  our  wills,  and  affections  to  his  service.  All  besides 

*  For  a  yet  fuller  statement  of  Mr.  Channing's  views  at  this  period,  the 
reader  is  referred  to  the  remarks  on  "The  System  of  Exclusion  and 
Denunciation  in  Religion,"  Works,  vol.  v.,  pp.  373 — 391. 

t  Christian  Disciple,  vol.  vL  No.  6,  page  161. 


416  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

this,  which  belongs  to  religion,  comes  under  the  denomi- 
nation either  of  means  or  of  motives.  Let  us  endeavour 
clearly  to  understand  this  distinction,  that  we  may  ever  use 
the  means  and  motives  of  religion  with  a  steady  view  to 
its  infinitely  important  end;  and  in  that  end  seek,  where 
alone  we  can  find  it,  the  true  and  eternal  good  of  our 

souls 

"  I  said  that  the  seat  of  religion  is  the  heart.  From  the 
abundance  of  the  heart,  or  according  to  its  moral  state,  we 
think,  and  feel,  and  speak,  and  act.  Love  to  God  and 
love  to  our  neighbour  form,  therefore,  the  essence  of  reli- 
gion ;  because,  in  proportion  to  their  prevalence  in  the 
heart,  they  will  produce  a  conformity  of  all  our  thoughts 
and  words,  our  feelings  and  actions,  to  the  will  of  God  ; 
they  will  subdue  every  passion  and  appetite  to  the  domi- 
nion of  his  law ;  they  will  make  his  approbation  absolutely 
essential  to  the  peace  of  our  hearts  ;  they  will  make  it  the 
very  life  of  our  happiness.  But  let  us  comprehend  the 
commandment,  for  it  is  exceeding  broad.  We  cannot  love 
God  till  we  know  him.  Religion  comprehends,  therefore, 
a  knowledge  of  God.  In  proportion  to  our  love  of  God 
will  be  our  confidence  in  him,  our  entire  satisfaction  with 
the  courses  and  designs  of  his  pi'ovidence,  whether  we  un- 
derstand them  or  not,  and  our  resignation  to  his  will.  If 
we  love  him,  we  shall  earnestly  desire  and  endeavour  to  be 
like  him;  we  shall  do  whatever  we  know  or  believe  will 
please  him ;  we  shall  avoid  whatever  we  have  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  he  cannot  approve.  If  we  so  love  God,  we  shall 
feel  also  a  Christian  love  of  one  another ;  for  the  greatest 
obstacles  to  the  exercise  of  this  love,  of  the  active  and  uni- 
versal charity  of  the  gospel,  will  then  be  overcome  in  our 
hearts.  We  shall  feel  a  love  which  not  only  worketh  no 
ill  to  our  neighbour,  but  all  practicable  good, — a  love  that 
can  bear  and  forbear,  that  hopeth  all  things  and  endureth 
all  things,  that  can  return  blessings  for  curses,  and  prayers 


CHRISTIAN    UNION.  417 

for  injuries  —in  fine,  a  love  which  will  excite  us  in  all  cir- 
cumstances to  do  to  others  as  we  would  that  others  should 
do  to  us.  To  be  religious,  therefore,  is  to  be  wholly  con- 
formed to  the  will  of  God ;  it  is  to  have  in  ourselves  the 
mind  that  was  in  Christ;  it  is  to  possess  the  will,  the 
temper,  and  affections  of  Christians 

"  What,  then,  is  the  connection  between  Religion  and 
its  Doctrines  and  Rites  ? 

"I  answer: — 1.  The  doctrines  of  religion  comprehend 
all  that  we  are  taught  of  the  character,  government,  and 
purposes  of  God,  of  the  person  and  offices  of  our  Lord,  of 
our  moral  nature  and  capacities  in  this  world,  of  the  happi- 
ness of  the  good  and  the  misery  of  the  wicked  in  the  life 
to  come.  These  doctrines  are  addressed  to  our  faith  ;  and 
it  is  obvious  that  simply  to  believe  them  will  not  make  us 
religious.  How,  then,  are  they  conducive  to  this  end  ? 
Reflect  on  them  but  for  a  moment,  and  you  will  perceive 
that  in  these  doctrines  are  comprehended  all  the  motives 
by  which  the  gospel  excites  us  to  a  godly,  a  sober,  and  a 
righteous  life.  As  motives,  it  is  immediately  apparent  how 
very  important  they  are  to  the  great  and  infinitely  mo- 
mentous purposes  for  which  God  has  revealed  them 

"  But  they  will  save  us  only  by  conducing  to  the  end  for 
which  they  were  given.  Even  as  the  body  without  the 
spirit  is  dead,  so  is  faith  in  these  and  all  the  doctrines  of 
religion,  unless  productive  of  a  Christian  temper,  of  good 
works,  of  obedience  to  God,  dead  also. 

"  2.  Still  more  plain  is  the  true  relation  between  the 
rites  of  religion  and  religion  itself.  No  positive  institutions 
could,  indeed,  be  more  expressive,  more  appropriate,  than 
are  Baptism  and  the  Lord's  Supper.  And  yet,  separated 
from  the  ends  of  their  appointment,  what  tendency  has  their 
observance  to  make  us  more  acceptable  to  God  ? 

"  We  can  scarcely  exaggerate  the  importance  of  these 
ordinances  as  means  of  religion.  But,  unless  they  conduce 


418  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

to  the  ends  for  which  they  were  intended,  they  will  avail  us 
nothing. 

"  I  will  only  add  two  inferences  : — 1.  The  means  of  re- 
ligion may  be  changed  in  conformity  with  the  circumstances 
of  those  for  whose  use  they  are  appointed.  But  religion 
itself  can  never  change.  Like  God,  it  is  the  same  yesterday, 

to-day,  and  for  ever 2.  Is  religion  itself  for  ever 

essentially  the  same  ?  Does  it  consist  in  an  unreserved 
devotion  of  the  heart,  the  passions,  will,  and  affections,  to 
God ;  in  a  choice  of  God  as  our  supreme  good,  and  a  ready 
obedience  to  his  will,  from  a  principle  of  love  ?  Then  let 
us  value  and  improve  the  means,  with  a  faithful  reference 
to  their  infinitely  important  end." 

September,  1816.  CHRISTIAN  UNION.  "  The  guilt  of  a 
sectarian  spirit  is  but  little  understood,  or  it  would  not  be 
so  often  and  inconsiderately  incurred.  To  bestow  our 
affections  on  those  who  are  ranged  under  the  same  human 
leader,  or  who  belong  to  the  same  church  with  ourselves, 
and  to  withhold  it  from  others  who  possess  equal  if  not 
superior  virtue,  because  they  bear  a  different  name,  is  to 
prefer  a  party  to  the  Church  of  Christ.  Still  more,  to  look 
with  an  unfriendly,  jealous  eye  on  the  improvements  and 
graces  of  other  denominations  is  one  of  the  most  decided 
acts  of  hostility  to  Jesus  Christ  which  his  disciples  have 
power  to  commit ;  for  the  virtue  towards  which  they  thus 
cherish  and  express  dislike  is  the  image  of  Christ,  the  pro- 
motion of  which  is  the  highest  end  of  his  life,  of  his  death, 
and  of  his  mediation  at  the  right  hand  of  God. 

"  I  speak  not  this  to  the  reproach  of  one  class  of  Chris- 
tians rather  than  of  another.  All  have  reason  for  deep 
humiliation.  All  have  been  infected  with  this  accursed 
leaven  of  party  spirit.  Few  Christians,  it  is  to  be  feared, 
look  on  the  virtues  and  attainments  of  other  denominations 
with  equal  pleasure  as  on  those  of  their  own.  Few  do 


LIBERTY   OF    CONSCIENCE.  419 

entire  justice  to  those  who  differ  from  them.  It  is  to  be 
hoped,  however,  that  in  this  respect  a  real  improvement  is 
spreading  through  Christendom.  The  partition  walls  are 
beginning  to  fall.  The  fires  of  persecution  are  going  out. 

"  This  union  of  Christians  is  the  brightest  feature,  the 
distinguishing  glory  of  our  age.  Let  it  be  extended,  and 
our  religion  will  have  free  course  through  the  earth.  A 
new  face  will  then  be  given  to  the  world.  Hitherto  the 
strength  of  Christians  has  been  spent  in  mutual  conflict. 
The  force  of  the  kingdom  of  Christ  has  been  wasted  in 
civil  war.  Let  Christians  of  every  name  and  every  region 
feel  and  respect  the  holy  bond  of  brotherhood ;  let  their 
prayers  and  labours  be  united  for  the  diffusion,  not  of 
sectarian  peculiarities,  but  of  that  genuine  Christianity 
which  all  hold  in  common ;  let  a  co-operation  as  extensive 
as  the  Christian  world  be  formed  to  diffuse  it  and  make  it 
practically  efficient. 

"Let  churches  lay  down  their  arms  and  love  one  another, 
and  nations  will  begin  to  learn  war  no  more.  Let  Chris- 
tians of  different  countries  embrace  one  another  as  brethren, 
let  them  co-operate  in  schemes  of  general  utility  to  the 
Church  and  to  mankind,  and  they  will  shudder  at  the 
thought  of  breaking  this  sacred  union.  Peace,  universal 
peace,  will  be  then  their  constant  prayer." 

1817.  CHRISTIAN  LIBERTY.  "  It  was  by  asserting  their 
right  to  the  free  use  of  the  Scriptures,  and  to  private  judg- 
ment, that  the  Reformers  laid  the  foundation  of  that  purer 
state  of  religion  in  which  we  now  rejoice.  Let  these  rights 
never  be  wrested  from  us.  Let  us  hold  them  dearer  than 
all  civil  immunities.  Better  have  our  persons  and  property 
than  our  minds  subjected  to  a  despot. 

"Is  it  said,  that  this  jealousy  is  no  longer  needed  in 
Protestant  countries,  that  faith  and  conscience  are  here  left 
free  ?  We  certainly  have  reason  to  thank  God  for  the  en- 

T  3 


420  THE  UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

joyment  of  greater  religious  liberty  than  was  ever  possessed 
before.  The  fire  of  persecution  is  quenched ;  the  Scrip- 
tures are  in  every  man's  hand.  But  still,  to  read  the  Scrip- 
tures with  independent  minds  requires  no  little  effort. 
There  are  still  obstructions  to  the  privilege  of  judging  for 
ourselves.  The  spirit  of  Popery  did  not  expire  among  our 
ancestors  with  its  forms.  Human  nature  and  its  ruling 
passions  are  always  the  same.  The  same  love  of  power,  the 
same  desire  to  lead,  the  same  wish  to  dictate  to  the  con- 
sciences of  others,  which  burned  in  the  breasts  of  the 
Romish  clergy,  and  built  up  the  Romish  hierarchy,  still 
subsist  and  operate  among  us.  There  is  still,  and  always 
will  be  until  man  is  more  exalted  by  Christianity,  a  con- 
spiracy against  the  religious  as  well  as  the  civil  rights  of 
men.  In  Protestant  countries  there  are  those  who  are  im- 
patient of  contradiction,  who  wish  to  impose  their  views  on 
others,  who  surround  their  creeds  with  similar  terrors  to 
those  made  use  of  by  the  Papal  church,  and  doom  to  de- 
struction all  who  have  the  temerity  to  differ  from  their 
opinions.  And  what  is  yet  more  melancholy,  in  Pro- 
testant countries  are  multitudes  who,  awed  by  great  names 
and  loud  denunciations,  want  courage  to  inquire  for  them- 
selves, fear  to  doubt  what  positive  men  and  popular  opinion 
pronounce  sacred,  take  the  name  of  a  human  leader  whom 
they  dread  to  desert,  and  adopt  as  their  standard  not  so 
much  the  Scriptures  as  the  interpretation  of  confident 
fellow-beings,  who  condemn  all  but  themselves  and  their 
servile  adherents.  To  this  timid  spirit  we  owe  the  worst 
corruptions  of  Christianity  in  earlier  times,  and  it  is  this 
which  still  obscures  the  glory  of  our  religion. 

"  Remember,  my  friends,  that  the  great  doctrine  of  the 
Reformation  was  this— that  Jesus  Christ  is  the  only  infal- 
lible teacher  of  his  Church,  and  that  to  him  as  he  speaks  in 
his  word,  and  not  to  human  guides,  we  are  all  bound  to 
listen.  It  is  the  character  of  the  consistent  Protestant,  and 


INFALLIBILITY.  421 

of  the  enlightened  Christian,  that  he  calls  no  man  master, 
and  bows  his  faith  and  conscience  to  no  human  tribunal. 
He  is  not  intimidated  by  positive  assertion,  anathemas,  and 
cries  of  heresy.  He  goes  to  no  infallible  head,  whether  at 
Rome,  Geneva,  or  Wittemberg,  borrows  no  creed  from 
Trent  or  Westminster,  takes  no  name  from  Luther,  Calvin, 
or  Arminius,  intrenches  himself  behind  no  traditions  of 
forefathers  and  ancient  saints.  He,  indeed,  avails  himself 
of  the  lights  and  arguments  of  good  and  great  men  of 
present  and  former  times.  But  Jesus  is  the  only  authority 
to  whom  he  submits. 

"  Every  church  in  Christendom  has  its  errors,  and  per- 
haps errors  which  to  future  ages  may  seem  as  gross  as 
many  earlier  superstitions  appear  to  the  present  generation. 
In  reading  Scripture  impartially,  we  may  be  compelled  to 
dissent  from  opinions  which  are  embraced  by  multitudes 
with  an  excess  of  zeal.  In  this  case  our  path  is  plain. 
Let  us  be  meek,  but  bold,  professors  of  truth.  Let  us  all 
adhere  with  firmness  to  what  we  deliberately  and  solemnly 
believe  to  be  the  truth  of  God.  Let  us  not  shrink  from  its 
defence  because  it  is  persecuted,  because  it  is  unpopular, 
because  it  may  expose  us  to  an  evil  name.  Truth  should 
be  dearer  to  us  than  reputation.  We  must  remember  that 
it  has  seldom  made  its  way  without  exposing  its  professors 
to  suffering  and  reproach,  and  in  the  reproach  of  our  Master 
we  should  be  willing  to  share. 

"  This  right  to  consult  and  judge  for  himself  of  God's 
word  is  our  neighbour's  as  well  as  our  own.  Whilst  we 
claim  it  for  ourselves,  let  us  not  deny  it  to  others.  Let 
us  give  what  we  ask.  Let  us  be  anxious,  not  to  make 
men  think  as  we  do,  but  to  direct  them  to  the  only  source  of 
truth  ;  and  let  us  not  condemn  their  motives,  if  in  inter- 
preting the  Scriptures  they  differ  from  ourselves. 

"  There  is  a  strong  disposition  in  men  to  make  their 
own  creeds  standards  for  those  around  them,  to  cling  to 


422  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

the  opinions  on  which  they  differ  from  others  with  peculiar 
confidence  and  tenacity,  and,  as  if  incapable  of  error,  to 
look  with  an  evil  eye  on  those  who  doubt  them.  But  this 
is  a  strange  inconsistency  in  a  Protestant.  The  claim  of 
infallibility  was  the  very  article  of  the  Romish  church 
against  which  Luther  most  strenuously  set  his  face.  Hemain- 
tained  that  popes,  councils,  fathers,  and  the  whole  Church 
might  err ;  and  who  of  us  that  reads  the  records  of  the 
Church,  who  that  sees  the  lamentable  and  now  acknow- 
ledged errors  both  of  the  Romish  and  Protestant  com- 
munions, will  not  assent  to  this  doctrine  of  human  frailty  ? 
Yet,  in  opposition  to  this  principle,  how  many  Protestants 
clothe  themselves  with  that  infallibility  which  they  have 
condemned  and  derided  in  Rome,  assume  this  very  place  of 
pope  in  the  Church,  prepare  articles  of  faith  for  their 
brethren,  and  give  over  to  perdition  those  who  will  not 
receive  their  decrees !  To  this  usurping  aud  uncharitable 
spirit  the  miseries  of  the  Church  in  every  age  are  to  be 
traced.  It  is  this  which  has  divided  Christians  into  hostile 
bands,  kindled  public  wars,  and  made  the  page  of  Christian 
history  as  black  and  bloody  as  the  records  of  heathenism. 

"  Strange,  that,  with  all  history  to  instruct  us,  we  do 
not  learn  to  be  humble,  candid,  and  tolerant ;  that  we  do 
not  remember  that  we,  and  not  our  brother,  may  have 
erred ;  and  that,  even  if  we  are  right,  it  does  not  become 
us  to  pronounce  his  error  a  crime. 

"  The  peace  of  the  Church  has  been  long  enough  dis- 
turbed. There  is  but  one  way  to  restore  it.  We  must 
respect  each  other's  rights,  feel  our  own  fallibility,  be 
kind  to  them  that  differ  from  us,  and  be  just  to  the  excel- 
lencies and  sincerity  of  all  denominations.  Look  where 
we  will  into  the  innumerable  divisions  of  the  Church,  we 
may  every  where  find  marks  of  the  spirit  of  Jesus.  The 
Catholic  church,  even  if  it  seems  to  us  the  most  corrupt, 
can  boast  of  names  which  do  honour  to  humanity.  Let 


BERRY-STREET    CONFERENCE.  423 

us  cease  to  think  that  our  own  sect  has  engrossed  all  truth 
and  all  goodness.  This  charity  is  the  ornament  of  the 
true  Christian,  and  the  only  hond  which  can  unite  disciples 
too  long  divided,  the  only  remedy  which  can  heal  the 
wounded  and  lacerated  body  of  Christ." 

ADDRESS    AT   THE    FORMATION    OF   THE    BERRY-STREET 
CONFERENCE. 

May,  1820.  LIBERAL  CHRISTIANITY.  "  The  views  and 
dispositions  which  have  led  to  this  meeting  may  easily  be 
expressed.  It  was  thought  by  some  of  us,  that  the  minis- 
ters of  this  Commonwealth  who  are  known  to  agree  in 
what  are  called  Liberal  and  catholic  views  of  Christianity 
needed  a  bond  of  union,  a  means  of  intercourse,  and  an 
opportunity  of  conference  not  as  yet  enjoyed.  It  was 
thought  that  by  meeting  to  join  their  prayers  and  counsels, 
to  report  the  state  and  prospects  of  religion  in  different 
parts  of  the  Commonwealth,  to  communicate  the  methods 
of  advancing  it  which  have  been  found  most  successful,  to 
give  warning  of  dangers  not  generally  apprehended,  to 
seek  advice  in  difficulties,  and  to  take  a  broad  survey  of 
our  ecclesiastical  affairs,  and  of  the  wants  of  our  churches, — 
much  light,  strength,  comfort,  animation,  zeal  would  be 
spread  through  our  body.  It  was  thought  that,  by  such  a 
meeting,  brotherly  love  would  be  advanced,  that  a  founda- 
tion would  be  laid  for  joint  exertion,  and  that  many 
valuable  objects,  which  now  languish  through  our  ignorance 
of  each  other,  and  want  of  concert,  might  be  prosecuted 
with  vigour  and  success.  It  was  thought  that  the  circum- 
stances of  the  times  demand  a  more  earnest  co-operation 
than  formerly — that,  living,  as  we  do,  in  an  age  in  which 
the  principle  of  combination,  the  power  of  associated  num- 
bers, Is  resorted  to  by  all  sects  and  parties  in  an  unprece- 
dented degree,  we  were  bound  to  avail  ourselves  of  this 


424  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

instrumentality,  as  far  as  consists  with  the  free,  upright, 
independent  spirit  of  our  religion.  For  these  ends  it  was 
proposed  that  an  annual  meeting  should  be  held,  which 
should  be  spent  in  prayer,  in  hearing  an  address  from  one 
of  our  number,  in  offering  reports  as  to  the  state  of  our 
churches,  and  in  conference  as  to  the  best  methods  of  ad- 
vancing religion. 

"  The  individuals  who  originated  this  plan  did  not,  how- 
ever, intend  to  forestall  the  opinions  of  their  brethren,  by 
making  their  plan  too  minute ;  but  wished  that  at  the  first 
meeting  the  whole  question  should  be  considered  at  large : 
— '  In  what  way  the  ministers  who  are  understood  to  hold 
the  milder  forms  of  Christianity  may  be  brought  into  closer 
connection  and  more  united  exertion.'  I  have  only  to  add 
that  in  one  particular  they  were  agreed — that,  whilst  the 
meeting  should  be  confined  to  those  who  harmonize  gene- 
rally in  opinion,  it  should  be  considered  as  having  for  its 
object,  not  simply  the  advancement  of  their  peculiar  views, 
but  the  general  diffusion  of  practical  religion  and  of  the 
spirit  of  Christianity. 

"  Having  thus  given  the  views  of  the  individuals  who 
suggested  this  meeting,  I  proceed  to  address  you  on  some 
of  the  topics  which  were  considered  to  be  most  suited  to 
the  occasion,  and  shall  offer  some  remarks — first,  on  the 
general  spirit  which  belongs  to  our  profession ;  and 
secondly,  on  the  duties  which  are  particularly  appropriate 
to  us  in  the  present  state  of  the  Church. 

"  The  general  spirit  which  belongs  to  us  as  ministers, 
which  constitutes  the  spirit  of  our  profession,  which  gives 
force  and  earnestness  to  exertion,  and  seriousness  and 
dignity  to  the  character,  originates  in  a  cherished  conviction 
of  the  greatness  of  our  end.  We  are  to  feel  as  men  set 
apart  to  a  great  work,  who  have  great  interests  depending 
on  us,  great  powers  and  instruments  for  doing  good  en- 
trusted to  us,  and  a  solemn  account  to  render  for  our  use 


ORTHODOXY   AND    LIBERALITY.  425 

of  these  means.  We  must  labour  to  raise  our  minds  to 
the  height  of  our  vocation,  to  think  generously,  nobly  of 
its  design,  to  feel  that  we  are  devoted  to  an  object  deserving 
a  far  more  intense  energy  of  purpose  than  any  of  the  in- 
terests for  which  worldly  men  contend  so  keenly  and  keep 
society  in  an  uproar.  Nothing  calls  forth  the  soul  like  a 
consciousness  of  being  dedicated  to  a  sublime  work,  in 
which  illustrious  beings  are  our  associates,  and  of  which 
the  consequences  are  interminable.  I  am  speaking  with 
no  inflation,  I  trust.  I  am  not  using  common-place  lan- 
guage to  which  I  attach  little  meaning,  when  I  say  that 
this  is  the  consciousness  which  should  accompany  us  through 
our  office,  and  be  the  all-pervading,  all-quickening  spirit 
of  our  private  studies  and  public  labours. 

"  The  Christian  religion  is  in  a  particular  manner  com- 
mitted to  the  care,  watchfulness,  protection  of  ministers ; 
and  Christianity,  if  it  be  true,  must  be  acknowledged  as 
eminently  the  cause  of  God  and  the  highest  interest  of 
human  beings.  We  exaggerate  nothing  when  we  speak  of 
all  human  institutions — government,  science,  arts,  public 
wealth,  public  prosperity,  of  all  the  outward,  positive  goods 
of  life,  and  even  of  the  progress  of  intellect  and  the  de- 
velopment of  genius,  as  inferior  and  comparatively  unimpor- 
tant concerns ;  for  man's  relations  to  God  and  to  a  future 
life  are,  after  all,  the  true  springs  of  purity,  goodness,  great- 
ness, consolation,  joy  ;  and  it  is  by  making  them  known  hi 
their  reality  and  extent,  that  society  is  to  be  advanced  and 
refined,  as  well  as  individuals  redeemed  and  trained  for 
Heaven. 

"  Let  us,  then,  never  forget  that  the  religion  which  re- 
veals the  True  God  and  Immortal  Life,  which  is  the  best 
legacy  of  past  ages,  and  the  only  hope  for  the  future,  is 
committed  to  us,  to  be  preserved,  extended,  perpetuated ; 
and  let  the  dignity  of  our  office — an  office  before  which 
the  splendour  of  thrones  and  the  highest  distinctions  of 


426  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

earthly  ambition  grow  dim — be  used  by  us  to  develope  a 
just  elevation  of  mind,  a  force  of  resolution  and  action,  a 
superiority  to  temporary  applause,  a  willingness  to  live 
and  die,  to  labour  and  suffer,  for  the  promotion  of  Chris- 
tianity  

"  The  present  is  not  an  age  of  controversy  of  believers 
with  infidels,  but  of  believers  with  believers  ;  and  it  is  not 
uncommon  now  to  hear  the  name  of  Christian  denied  to 
those  who,  in  earlier  seasons  of  peril,  were  thought  the 
most  powerful  defenders  of  the  faith.  It  is  not,  however, 
the  distinguishing  peculiarity  of  our  times  that  Christian 
fights  with  Christian,  for  such  contentions  make  up  the 
burden  of  ecclesiastical  history ;  but  this  seems  to  me  to 
be  the  striking  distinction  of  the  age,  that  Christians, 
instead  of  being  arrayed,  as  heretofore,  under  the  different 
standards  of  little  sects,  are  gradually  gathering  by  large 
masses  and  with  systematic  order  into  two  great  divisions. 
These  two  great  divisions  are  known  among  us  by  the 
names  of  ORTHODOX  and  LIBERAL  ;  and  although  it  is  true 
that  other  party  distinctions  remain,  yet  these  are  so  pro- 
minent and  comprehensive,  that  they  deserve  our  peculiar 
and  almost  exclusive  attention,  in  considering  the  special 
duties  which  are  imposed  on  us  by  the  times. 

"  This  most  important  division  of  the  Christian  com- 
munity is  traced  to  different  causes  by  the  different  parties. 
The  Orthodox  maintain  that  the  great  cause  of  it  is  an 
arrogant  disposition  in  their  opponents  to  exalt  reason  at 
the  expense  of  Revelation,  to  scatter  the  sacred  cloud  of 
mystery  which  hangs  over  the  deep  things  of  God,  to  re- 
ject the  Divine  word  because  it  apparently  contradicts  the 
conclusions  of  human  understanding.  On  the  other  hand 
the  Liberal  or  Rational  maintain  that  this  division  is  to 
be  traced  to  the  advancement  of  the  human  mind,  to  the 
establishment  of  just  principles  of  Biblical  criticism,  to  the 
emancipation  of  Christianity  from  the  corruption  of  ages  of 


DUTIES    OF   UNITARIANS.  427 

darkness,  and  that  it  is  not  their  unwarrantable  boldness, 
but  a  servile  adherence  on  the  part  of  their  opponents  to 
prejudices  consecrated  by  antiquity,  which  prevents  the 
union  of  Christians. 

"These  explanations,  though  totally  opposed  to  each 
other,  assist  us  to  understand  the  true  nature  of  the  con- 
troversy which  agitates  the  community.  We  may  learn  from 
them,  that  particular  doctrines  are  not  the  chief  walls  of 
separation.  The  great  question  is  not,  whether  the 
trinity  or  vicarious  punishment  or  innate  sin  be  true. 
There  is  a  broader  question  which  now  divides  us,  and 
it  is  this, — How  far  is  REASON  to  be  used  in  explaining 

EEVELATION  ? 

"  The  Liberal  Christian  not  only  differs  from  his  Ortho- 
dox brother  on  particular  points,  but  differs  in  his  mode  of 
explaining  that  Book  which  they  both  acknowledge  to  be 
the  umpire.  He  maintains,  that  the  great,  essential  prin- 
ples  of  Christianity,  such  as  God's  unity  and  paternal 
character,  and  the  equity  and  mercy  of  his  administration, 
are  there  revealed  with  noontide  brightness,  and  that  they 
accord  perfectly  with  the  discoveries  of  nature,  and  the 
surest  dictates  of  our  moral  faculties.  Consequently  he  main- 
tains that  passages  of  Scripture,  which,  taken  separately, 
might  give  different  ideas  of  God's  nature  and  government, 
are,  in  common  candour  to  the  sacred  writers,  to  be  con- 
strued in  consistency  with  these  fundamental  truths.  He 
affirms,  too,  that  just  as  far  as  we  acquaint  ourselves  with 
the  circumstances  under  which  these  passages  were  written, 
such  a  consistent  interpretation  is  seen  to  be  the  intention 
of  the  authors,  and  that  we  are  therefore  justified  in  be- 
lieving that  nothing  but  the  antiquity  of  the  sacred  writings 
prevents  us  from  making  the  same  discovery  in  relation  to 
other  passages  which  continue  to  be  obscure. 

"  The  Orthodox  Christian  discards  as  impious  this  exer- 
cise of  reason,  though  he  himself  not  seldom  is  compelled 


428  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

to  resort  to  it,  and  maintains  that  the  Scriptures  are  frit- 
tered away  by  his  opponents  because  they  take  the  liberty, 
which  when  needed  is  taken  by  all,  of  explaining  figuratively 
certain  passages,  which,  according  to  their  literal  import, 
seem  to  contradict  the  general  strain  of  Scripture  and  the 
clearest  views  which  God's  works  and  word  afford  of  his 
wisdom  and  goodness.  Such  is  the  state  of  the  controversy 
among  us.  A  rational,  consistent  interpretation  of  Scrip- 
ture is  contended  for  by  one  party,  who  maintain  that  be- 
fore such  an  interpretation  the  doctrines  of  the  Trinity,  of 
Infinite  Satisfaction,  of  Election,  of  Irresistible  Grace,  and 
Sudden  Conversion,  fly  as  the  shades  of  the  night  before 
the  sun;  whilst  the  other  party  maintain  that  these  doc- 
trines are  not  a  whit  the  less  credible  because  they  offend 
reason  and  the  moral  sense,  that  an  important  part  of  faith 
is  the  humiliation  of  the  understanding,  weakened  and 
perverted  as  it  is  by  sin,  and  that  mystery  is  one  of  the 
sure  and  essential  marks  of  Divine  revelation. 

"  The  question  now  presents  itself,  What  duties  result 
from  this  state  of  the  Church  ? 

"  Is  this  controversy  an  important  one  ?  Is  this  rational 
interpretation  of  the  Scriptures  for  which  we  plead  im- 
portant ?  Are  the  doctrines  which  seem  to  us  to  flow  from 
such  interpretation  worth  contending  for  ?  These  questions 
will  help  us  to  judge  of  our  duty  at  the  present  moment. 
And  in  answer  to  them  I  would  maintain,  that  the  contro- 
versy is  of  great  importance,  and  that  we  owe  to  Jesus 
Christ  our  Master,  and  to  his  gospel,  a  strenuous  defence 
of  the  rational,  consistent  interpretation  which  we  are  seek- 
ing to  give  to  his  word.  The  success,  perhaps  the  very 
existence,  of  Christianity  requires  this  service  at  our  hands. 
Christianity  cannot  flourish,  or  continue,  unless  thus  in- 
terpreted. It  is  a  fact,  that,  however  disordered  human 
affairs  seem  to  be,  society  is  becoming  more  enlightened  ; 
and  there  is  a  growing  demand  for  a  form  of  religion  which 


DUTIES   OF   UNITARIANS.  429 

will  agree  with  the  clear  dictates  of  conscience  and  the 
plain  manifestations  which  the  universe  makes  of  God. 
An  irrational  form  of  religion  cannot  support  itself  against 
the  advances  of  intelligence.  We  have  seen  in  Catholic 
countries  a  general  revolting  of  enlightened  men  from 
Christianity,  through  disgust  at  Popery,  the  only  form 
under  which  it  was  presented  to  their  view.  Let  an  irra- 
tional Protestantism  be  exclusively  propagated,  so  that  the 
intelligent  will  be  called  to  make  their  election  between 
this  and  infidelity,  and  the  result  can  hardly  be  doubted. 
The  progressive  influence  of  Christianity  depends  mainly 
on  the  fact  that  it  is  a  rational  religion ;  by  which  I  mean, 
not  that  it  is  such  a  system  as  reason  could  discover  without 
revelation,  and  still  less  that  it  is  a  cold  and  lifeless  scheme 
of  philosophical  doctrines,  but  that  it  is  a  religion  which 
agrees  with  itself,  with  our  moral  nature,  with  our  experience 
and  observation,  with  the  order  of  the  universe,  and  the 
manifest  atti'ibutes  of  God 

"  I  have  time  to  add  but  one  more  reason  for  earnestly 
and  firmly  defending  and  spreading  what  we  deem  the  con- 
sistent, rational,  and  just  interpretation  of  Christianity ; 
and  it  is  this,  that  the  cause  of  Practical  Religion,  of  evan- 
gelical piety  and  morals,  is  deeply  concerned  in  this  move- 
ment. On  this  point  a  more  particular  discussion  is  needed 
than  the  present  limits  allow,  because  increasing  pains  are 
taken  to  represent  our  views  as  unfriendly  to  vital  religion, 
and  to  connect  with  opposite  doctrines  the  ideas  of  devoted 
zeal  and  seriousness.  This  fact  is  particularly  interesting 
to  us,  for  our  great  work  as  Christian  ministers  is  to  pro- 
mote Practical  Christianity,  love  to  God  and  love  to  man ; 
and  our  peculiarities  are  suspicious  indeed,  if  they  are  in 
any  manner  unfavourable  to  this  supreme  end  of  our 
office. 

"  But  the  reproach  is  groundless.  On  the  contraiy,  the 
chief  motive,  I  conceive,  for  insisting  on  and  spreading 


430  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

rational  views  is,  that  they  are  manifestly  more  suited  than 
so-called  Orthodox  views  to  reconcile  men's  hearts  to  God, 
to  purify  and  exalt  human  nature,  to  advance  charity  and 
philanthropy,  and  all  the  peculiar  virtues  of  the  gospel. 
Did  I  not  believe  this,  I  should  say,  let  us  at  once  lay  down 
the  weapons  of  controversy ;  for  even  if  we  hold  the  truth, 
it  is  not  worth  contending  for,  it  ought  not  to  be  contended 
for,  at  the  hazard  of  the  peace  of  the  community,  if  it  is 
only  a  theorem  for  the  speculative  intellect,  an  abstract 
science,  without  power  to  operate  on  the  character,  inap- 
plicable to  the  conscience  and  life.  Again  I  say,  it  is  the 
practical  influence  of  Liberal  views,  it  is  the  baneful  ten- 
dency of  Orthodox  views,  which  summons  us  to  the  zealous 
advocacy  of  rational  and  consistent  Christianity." 

1820.  CONGREGATIONALISM.  "Our  fathers  maintained 
the  independence  of  Christian  churches.  This  was  their 
fundamental  principle.  They  taught  that  every  church  or 
congregation  of  Christians  is  an  independent  community — 
that  it  is  competent  to  its  own  government,  has  the  sole 
power  of  managing  its  own  concerns,  electing  its  own  minis- 
ters, and  deciding  its  own  controversies,  and  that  it  is  not 
subject  to  any  other  churches,  or  to  bishops,  or  synods,  or 
assemblies,  or  to  any  foreign  ecclesiastical  tribunal  what- 
ever. This  great  principle  seemed  to  our  fathers  not  only 
true,  but  infinitely  important 

"  The  question  now  offers  itself,  Were  our  fathers  justi- 
fiable in  adopting  and  asserting  this  principle  ?  And  one 
answer  immediately  suggests  itself.  In  the  Scriptures  we 
find  not  one  word  of  a  national  church,  not  an  intimation 
that  all  the  churches  of  the  same  country  should  link  them- 
selves together,  should  give  up  their  independence  and 
self-control,  and  subject  themselves  to  a  common  master 
and  a  few  prelates.  In  Scripture  we  find  but  two  uses  of 
the  word  Church,  when  applied  to  religious  concerns.  It 


CONGREGATIONALISM.  431 

sometimes  means  the  whole  body  of  Christians  spread  over 
the  earth,  and  sometimes  a  particular  congregation  of 
Christians  accustomed  to  meet  in  one  place.  That  such 
congregations  are  to  submit  themselves  to  one  common 
head  or  pope,  as  the  Catholics  teach,  or  to  a  national  head, 
as  the  English  church  teaches,  or  to  any  power  or  tribunal 
distinct  from  that  which  subsists  in  each,  is  nowhere  even 
hinted  in  the  Scriptures.  Such  connections  are  human 
arrangements,  and  can  be  defended  only  by  arguments 
drawn  from  their  necessity,  or  their  obvious  fitness  to  pro- 
mote the  ends  of  the  Christian  religion. 

"  But  can  such  a  defence  be  sustained  ?  What  benefits, 
I  pray  you,  are  to  be  expected  from  uniting  particular 
churches  into  a  mass,  a  body,  under  one  government  ?  To 
answer  these  questions,  consider  the  purposes  for  which 
churches  are  instituted— and  they  may  be  expressed  in  a 
short  compass.  Churches  are  instituted  that  Christians 
may  grow  in  knowledge,  piety,  and  charity,  by  meeting 
together  as  Christians,  by  joining  in  worship,  by  commun- 
ing together  in  Christ's  ordinances,  by  receiving  instruction 
from  a  public  teacher,  and  uniting  in  good  works.  The 
association  is  a  friendly  one,  intended  to  promote  holiness, 
truth,  and  universal  virtue,  by  persuasion,  example,  and 
intercourse.  Now,  I  ask,  how  are  these  objects  advanced 
by  combining  many  churches  under  one  government? 
Will  a  church  be  more  strongly  united  .in  love,  will  it 
worship  more  fervently,  or  make  surer  progress  in  truth,  if 
its  minister  be  appointed,  its  worship  regulated,  its  creed 
established,  by  a  foreign  power,  be  that  power  a  pope,  or  a 
king,  or  an  assembly  of  bishops,  or  an  assembly  of  elders  ? 
One  would  think  that  every  church  could  better  consult 
its  own  edification — and  this  is  its  great  object — than 
strangers. 

"There  should  undoubtedly  be  a  close  union  between 
different  churches,  but  a  union  of  charity,  and  not  a  con- 
solidation into  one  mass,  or  a  subjection  to  one  tribunal. 


432  THE    UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. 

This  last  mode  of  binding  churches  together  is  uncongenial 
with  the  free  and  equal  spirit  of  Christianity,  engenders 
ambition,  intrigue,  and  jealousy,  subjects  Christ's  Church 
to  civil  or  ecclesiastical  bondage,  substitutes  force  for  per- 
suasion, and  stifles  the  spirit  of  inquiry.  These  are  almost 
inevitable  effects.  Once  create  a  power  or  jurisdiction  over 
all  the  churches  of  a  country,  or  over  a  large  number,  and 
you  create  a  prize  for  ambition.  This  power  becomes  im- 
portant to  the  magistrate,  it  excites  the  craving  of  the 
clergy.  They  who  gain  it  will  not  fail  to  strengthen  and 
extend  it ;  free  inquiry  will  be  its  prey ;  and  the  cardinal 
virtues  of  the  gospel — humility,  meekness,  and  charity — 
will  be  trodden  under  its  feet.  Such  has  been  the  history 
of  ecclesiastical  power,  when  extended  over  a  large  number 

of  churches,  and  I  fear  to  this  it  universally  tends 

"  Congregationalism  is  the  only  effectual  protection  of 
the  Church  from  usurpation,  the  only  effectual  security  of 
Christian  freedom,  of  the  right  of  private  judgment.  As 
such  let  us  hold  it  dear.  Let  us  esteem  it  an  invaluable 
legacy.  Let  us  resist  every  effort  to  wrest  it  from  us. 
Attempts  have  been  made,  and  may  be  repeated,  to  subject 
our  churches  to  tribunals  subversive  of  their  independence. 
Let  the  voice  of  our  fathers  be  heard,  warning  us  to  stand 
fast  in  the  liberty  with  which  Christ  has  made  us  free. 
The  independence  of  our  churches  was  the  fundamental 
principle  which  they  aimed  to  establish  here,  and  here  may 
it  never  die."* 

*  The  reader  who  would  follow  Mr.  Channing's  course  throughout  this 
controversy,  and  trace  the  gradual  development  of  his  principles  and  con- 
duct, should  read  in  connection  with  this  address  the  tracts  on  Objections 
to  Unitarian  Christianity  Considered,  1819,  Works,  vol.  v.,  pp.  393-410; 
and  The  Moral  Argument  against  Calvinism,  1820,  Works,  vol.  i.,  pp. 
217-241,  and  also  the  Discourse  at  the  Ordination  of  the  Rev.  Jared 
Sparks,  Baltimore,  1819,  Works,  vol.  iii.,  pp.  59-103. 

END  OF  VOL.   I. 
G.  Woodfall  and  Son,  Printers,  Angel  Court,  Skinner  Street,  London. 


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The  Principles  of  Nat  HIT,  her  Divine  Revelations,  and  a  Voice 

TO  MANKIND.  By  and  through  ANDREW  JACKSON  DAVIS,  the 
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"  For  some  time  past  the  most  extra- 
ordinary interest  has  been  excited  in 
New  York  by  a  series  of  lectures  de- 
livered by  a  Mr.  A.  J.  Davis,  while  in  a 

state    of    mesmeric    sleep The 

lectures,  though  thus  delivered  while 
Mr.  Davis  is  sound  asleep,  occupy  from 
an  hour  to  an  hour  and  a  half  in 
the  delivery,  and  are  enunciated  with  a 
fluency  and  ease  never  surpassed  by 
the  most  accomplished  speaker.  They 
embrace  every  variety  of  scientific  sub- 
ject, cosmology,  ethnology,  astronomy, 
geology,  physiology,  languages,  &c. 
What;  makes  the  matter  the  more  ex- 
traordinary is  the  fact,  that  on  all  the 
subjects  on  which  Mr.  Davis  lectures 
when  in  a  state  of  mesmeric  sleep,  he 
is  profoundly  ignorant  in  his  waking 
moments." — London  Observer. 

"  I  am  fully  prepared  to  be  a  witness 
to  the  fact  of  his  making  correct  use  of 
a  multitude  of  technical  terms  appro- 
priate to  the  theme  of  science,  which  he 
is  wholly  unable  to  define,  in  his  waking 
state,  and  which  would  naturally  occur 
only  to  one  who  had  been  long  familiar 
witn  the  subjects,  and  with  their  pecu- 
liar nomenclature.  Indeed,  I  have 
been  sometimes  amused  at  his  bungling 
attempts,  on  casually  reading  the 
manuscript,  even  to  pronounce  accu- 
rately the  words,  which  he  utters  with 
entire  freedom  and  correctness  in  the 
mesmeric  delivery;  and  which  are 
taken  down  verbatim  by  a  scribe  with  a 
view  to  ultimate  publication.  I  can 
also  testify  that,  having  been  occasion- 
ally present  at  some  of  these  lectures, 
I  have  heard  him  quote  Hebrew,  Greek, 
and  the  Latin  languages,  of  none  of 
which  he  has  the  least  knowledge  in  his 
normal  condition.  He  has  also  quoted 
long  extracts  from  the  Sanscrit,  the 
substance  of  which  I  have  been  able  to 
verify  from  a  French  translation  of  the 
Veda*.  Whether  the  same  thing  exists 
in  an  English  version  I  have  not 
learned;  but  I  am  entirely  confident  he 
has  never  read  it  in  any  translation. 

"  Taken  as  a  whole,  the  work  is  a 
profound  and  elaborate  discussion  of  the 
Philosophy  of  the  Universe,  and  for  gran- 
deur of  conception,  soundness  of  prin- 
ciple, clearness  of  illustration,  order  of 
arrangement  and  encyclopediacal  range 
of  subjects,  I  know  of  no  work  of  any 
single  mind  that  will  bear  away  from  it 
the  palm.  To  every  theme  the  inditing 
mind  approaches  with  a  certain  latent 


consciousness  of  mastery  of  all  its 
principles,  details,  and  technicalities  ; 
mi  1  yet  without  the  least  ostentatious 
display  of  superior  mental  powers."— Dr. 
Bush,  Professor  of  Hebrew  in  New  York. 

"In  whatever  view  the  work  is 
regarded,  it  is  a  very  remarkable  pro- 
duction, and  will  assuredly  attract 
extensive  attention  here,  as  it  already 
has  in  America."—  Morning  Advertiser. 

"  The  book  has  excited  so  much 
interest  in  America,  that  though  large, 
consisting  of  800  pages,  900  copies  were 
sold  in  one  week."—  Family  Herald. 

"  Viewed  as  one  will,  the  book  is  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  literary  curi- 
osities ever  heard  of."— Massachusetts 
Quarterly  Review. 

"  The  main  idea  is  skilfully  sustained 
and  developed,  and  there  is  a  great  deal 
in  the  book  that  we  admire,  and  have 
long  admired  in  other  connexions."— 
American  Christian  Examiner. 

"Judged  by  the  usual  principles  of 
criticism  as  the  work  of  an  unaided 
shoemaker,  not  two-and-twenty  years 
of  age,  we  may  safely  pronounce  it  the 
most  surpassing  prodigy  of  literary 
history."—  The  Harbinger. 

"  His  (Davis's)  demonstrations  of  the 
existence  of  a  God  and  of  the  immor- 
tality of  the  soul,  are  inexpressibly 
admirable." — New  York  Sunday  Dispatch. 

"  In  saying  explicitly  that  we  cannot 
conceive  of  a  more  captivating  and  ab- 
sorbing book,  (to  us,  far  more  so  than 
any  novel  we  have  ever  read)— we  have 
no  need_to  express,  one  way  or  another, 
an  opinion  as  to  the  supernatural  quality 
of  the  'Revelations'.  To  an  unbeliever 
it  will  be  a  most  delicious  and  far-reach- 
ing work  of  imagination,  written  with 
a  vast  background  of  scientific  and 
philosophical  knowledge,  while,  to  the 
believer,  it  will  be,  of  course,  like  con- 
verse with  an  archangel  on  the  compa- 
rison of  other  worlds  with  ours."— Home 
Journal,  written  by  N.  B.  Willis. 

"  I  am  one  of  hundreds,  who  have 
seen  and  will  testify  to  multiplied 
instances  of  his  powers,  which  will 
admit  of  no  explanation,  save  the  ex- 
alted and  abnormal  condition  of  mind 
which  heclaims."—  Troy  Budget,  written 
by  Rev.  T.  Harris. 

"  View  it  in  whatever  light  we  may, 
whether  as  a  production  of  untainted 
imagination  taking  its  flight  in  the 
Universe  of  Romance,  or  as  the  clear 
impressions  of  a  mind  in  that  condition 


Works  published  by 


easily  explained.  Be  it  fraud,  delusion, 
or  mixture,— be  it  mesmerism,  or  newly 
invented  communication  from  the 
spiritual  world,  or  downright  revelation, 
be  it  any  one  of  these,  or  anything  else, 
it  is  very  curious.  As  soon  as  the  right 
name  is  found  for  it,  we  will  be  the  first 
to  call,  of  that  name,  extraordinary, — 
very  extraordinary."—  Atherueum. 


which  is  analogous  to  angelic  life,  it 
comes  to  the  mind  as  something  which 
transcends  its  understanding  of  possi- 
bilities."— Truth's  Telegraph. 

"  A  very  wonderful  book,  exhibiting 
everywhere  a  gigantic  grasp  of  thought." 
— Critic. 

"  Let  our  readers  distinctly  under- 
stand that  we  do  not  on  any  supposition 
regard  this  book  as  common  place,  or 

Brief  Outlines  and  Renew  of  a  Work  entitled  the  "  Principles 

OF  NATURE,  her  Divine  Revelations,  and  a  Voice  to  Mankind, 
by  and  through  ANDREW  JACKSON  DAVIS,  the  'Poughkeepsie  Seer,' 
and  'Clairvoyant,'"  being  the  substance  of  a  Preface  to  that  Work,  by 
JOHN  CHAPMAN,  8vo.  sewed,  Is. 

The  Massachusetts  Quarterly  Review, 

Conducted  by  R.  W.  EMERSON,  THEODORE  PARKER,  and  J.  ELLIOT 
CABOT,  assisted  by  several  other  Gentlemen.     Large  8vo.,  4s. 
%*  It  is  devoted  to  the  interests  of  no  Party  or  Class,  but  its  con- 
ductors endeavour  to  present  an  open  and  fair  field  for  the  notice  and  dis- 
cussion of  matters  pertaining  to  Philosophy,  Literature,  Politics,  Religion,  and 
Humanity. 

The  periods  of  publication  are  March,  June,  September,  and  December. 

CONTENTS  OF   NO.    I. 

EDITOR'S  ADDRESS.  Art.  I.  The  Mexican  War.  II.  Power's  Greek  Slave. 
III.  The  Political  Condition  and  Prospects  of  Greece.  IV.  The  Life  and 
"Writings  of  Agassiz.  V.  Short  Reviews  and  Notices. 

CONTENTS  OF  NO.  II: 

Art.  I.  The  legal  basis  of  American  Slavery,  n.  The  Inductive  System. 
III.  Education  of  the  People.  IV.  The  Hebrew  Monarchy.  V.  Ballad  Litera- 
ture. VI.  Short  Reviews  and  Notices. 

Endeavours  after  the  Christian  Life.    (First  Series,) 

By  JAMES  MAKTINEAU.    Second  Edition.    12mo,  7*.  6rf.  cloth. 

Endeavours  after  the  Christian  Life.    (Second  Series.) 

By  JAMES  MARTINEAU.    I2mo,  7s.  Gd.  cloth. 

"  Heartily  do  we  welcome  a  second  of  the   orthodox   in  all   departments 

volume     of   '  Endeavours    after    the  might  receive  from  them  intellectual 

Christian  Life,'  because  when  all  that  ]  stimulus,  moral   polish,  and  in  some 

suits  not  our  taste  is  omitted,  we  have  moods  religious  edification,"— Noncon- 

still  left  more  to  instruct,  interest,  im-  formist. 

prove,  and  elevate,  than  in  almost  any  "  One  of  the  most  interesting,  attrae- 

other  volume  with  which  we  are  ac-  i  tive,  and  most  valuable  series  of  essays 


quainted W  hatever  may  be   its 

defects,  we  regard  it  as  one  of  the  most 
precious  gifts  to  the  religious  world  in 
modern  times." — Inquirer. 
"  Mr.   Martineau   is   known,    much 


which  the  literature  of  Christianity  has 
received  from  priest  or  layman  for 
many  a  year. 

"  \olumes  that  have  in  them  both 
intellect  and  true  eloquence,  and  which 


beyond  the  limits  of  his  own  denomin-  '  satisfy  the  understanding  while  they 


ation,  as  a  man  of  great  gifts  and  ac- 
complishments, and  his  publications 
have  been  all  marked  by  subtle  and 
vigorous  thought,  much  beauty  of 
imagination,  and  certain  charms  of 
composition,  which  are  sure  to  find 

admirers There  is  a  delicacy  and 

ethereality  of  ethical  sentiment  in 
these  discourses  which  must  commend 
them,  and  we  may  safely  say  that  many 


please  the  taste  and  improve  the  heart. 
"  When  we  say  that  these  Discourses 
are  eminently  practical,  we  mean  that 
they  are  adapted,  not  only  for  man  in 
the  abstract— to  teach  the  duties  of 
Christianity  everywhere— but  also  with 
reference  to  the  circumstances  of 
society— of  the  age  and  country  in 
which  our  lot  is  cast."—  Critic. 


John  Chapman,  142,  Strand. 


Poems.    By  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson. 


Post  8vo.    6s.  cloth  gilt. 

"  There  are  in  these  stanzas  many 
a  fine  image  and  sometimes  a  cluster 
of  such— scattered  symbols  of  deep  sig- 
nificance—and the  presence  of  sincere 

and  earnest  thinking  everywhere 

A  wild  low  music  accompanies  these 
artless  strains ;  an  indistinct,  uncertain 
melody— such  a  tune  as  an  untaught 
musical  nature  might  choose  to  itself  in 
solitary  places There  are  some- 
times stanzas  which  are  suggestive,  not 
only  in  a  political  relation,  but  in  one 
far  higher — as  touching  those  social  re- 
forms which  now  everywhere  command 
the  attention  of  society.  Some  portions 
of  a  series  of  poems  entitled  'Wood 
Notes,'  are  in  their  peculiar  way  vet 
finer ;  and  the  entire  succession  has 
been  enthusiastically  received  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Atlantic." — Athenaum. 

"  There  are  in  this  volume  unmistake- 


able  evidences  of  genius;  the  soul  of 
the  poet  flashes  out  continually;  and 
the  hand  of  the  poet  is  seen  often." — 
Critic. 

"  He  occasionally  reminds  us  of  the 
reflective  depth  of  Wordsworth ;  and 
sometimes  evinces  a  delicate  fancy  and 
richness  of  epithetworthyof  Tennyson. " 
— Manchester  Examiner. 

"  His  lines  are  full  of  meaning."— 
Inquirer. 

"  To  read  his  finer  pieces  is  to  our 
poetic  feeling  like  receiving  a  succes- 
sion of  electric  shocks ;  —  even  his  un- 
shaped  fragments  are  not  bits  of  glass 
but  of  diamond,  and  have  always  the 
true  poetic  lustre.  We  know  of  no 
compositions  that  surpass  his  in  their 
characteristic  excellence."— Chrittian 
Examiner. 


Honour ;  or.  the  Story  of  the  braie  Caspar  and  the  fair  Annerl. 

By  CLEMENS  BEENTANO.  With  an  Introduction  and  a  Biographical 
Notice  of  the  Author,  by  T.  W.  APPELL,  Translated  from  the  German. 
Fcp.  8vo.  gilt  edges,  2s.  6d. 


"  None  of  the  poets  of  the  Romantic 
School  of  Germany,  with  perhaps  the 
exception  of  Novalis,  have  identified 
themselves  with  nature  as  Brentano 
has  done.  He  possesses  in  a  wonderful  j 
degree  all  their  beauties  and  eccentrici- 
ties, and  is,  nevertheless,  one  of  its 
most  distinguished  members." — Intro- 
duction. 

••  Though,  as  we  have  observed,  the 
subject  of  this  little  story  is  full  of 
exciting  incident,  yet  we  may  fairly 
agree  with  the  translator  when  he  says, 
"the  whole  is  kept  so  unaffectedly 
noble  and  simply  true,  that,  at  the 
present  time,  when  authors  are  vying 
with  each  other  in  displaying  in  their 
works  the  most  violent  contrasts,  and 
in  portraying  the  most  vulgar  and  per- 
nicious realities  dug  up  from  the  very- 
dregs  of  large  cities,  this  little  work 
stands  as  a  beautiful  model  in  litera- 
ture."— Manchester  Examiner. 

"  This  tale  is  one  of  Brentano's  most 
perfect  compositions,  presenting  all  his 
poetical  and  imaginative  beauties, 
without  the  extravagance  that  too  often 
deformed  them.  It  is  a  right  wholetome 
fiction,  and  at  this  time,  when  a  taste 
for  unwholesome  romances  so  much 
abounds,  it  appears  opportunely  to 
show  the  public  by  contrast  the  plea- 
sure of  a  pure  creation,  such  as  this, 
compared  with  the  unnatural  extrava- 

§anzes    for    which    there  is   such   a 
emand." — Critic. 

"A  most  touching  tale."— Noncon- 
formist. 


"  Brentano's  story  of  •  The  brave  j 
Caspar  and  the  fair  Annerl,'  is  one 
which  has  notably  taken  its  stand 
among  the  romances  that  give  a  por- 
traiture of  lower  life  in  Germany,  and 
like  most  of  the  works  of  its  accom- 
plished author,  ranks  high  in  public 
estimation  there.  We  do  not  think  it 
likely  to  lose  any  of  its  popularity  by 
its  English  dress.  It  is  a  melancholy 
and  very  touching  story.  Those  who 
are  unacquainted  with  the  writings  of 
Brentano  will  find  a  good  account  of 
them,  together  with  a  short  biography 
of  the  author,  in  the  introduction." — 
Examiner. 

"  A  little  story  worthy  to  take  rank 
with  Auerbach's  Village  Tales  and 
other  delineations  of  the  peasant  life 
of  Germany,  which  have  lately  been 
received  with  so  much  favour  in  Eng- 
land. Its  author  is  as  yet  scarcely 
known  here  ;  we  therefore  feel  grateful 
to  the  translator  both  for  his  having 
put  into  an  English  dress  a  charming 
little  tale,  and  also  for  introducing  to 
an  English  audience  one  whose  name 
perhaps  many  of  them  had  never  before 
met  with,  notwithstanding  that  his 
family  have  been  rendered  illustrious 
by  their  connexion  with  genius.  The 
little  tale  before  us  is  one  of  Brentano's 
latest  works,  and  was  published  at 
Berlin  in  1835.  It  is  evidently  his 
most  finished  production,  and  contains 
passages  which  will  find  an  echo  in  all 
hearts.  In  the  words  of  his  biographer, 
in  this  story  Brentano's  muse  is  dig- 


JJ'orks  published  by 


played  in  her  fairest  aspect,  and  entire- 
ly divested  of  his  usual  extravagant 
fancies.  The  delineation  of  the  tale 
recals  to  one's  memory  the  ingenious 
arabesque  characters  in  the  M.S.S.  of 
the  middle  ages,  and  indeed  many  of 
the  details  are  really  taken  from  popu- 


lar tradition.  But  the  whole  ia  kept 
unaffectedly  noble  and  simply  truy. 
>Ve  must  not  make  extracts  from  thi* 
little  volume,  but  can  honestly  say  that 
it  is  admirably  adapted  fora  Christmas 
Present  or  New  Year's  gift.—  Wettmin- 
tter  and  Foreign  Quarterly  Review. 


Political  Economy  anil  the  Philosophy  of  Government. 

A  Series  of  Essays  selected  from  the  works  of  M.  DE  SISMONDI.  With 
an  Historical  Notice  of  his  Life  and  Writings  by  M.  MIGNET.  Trans- 
lated from  the  French,  and  illustrated  by  Extracts  from  an  unpublished 
Memoir,  and  from  M.  de  Sismondi's  private  Journals  and  Letters,  to 
which  is  added  a  List  of  his  Works,  and  a  preliminary  Essay,  by  the 
Translator.  8vo.  cloth,  12s. 

"  In  this  country  the  views  of  Sismon- 
di,  long  derided,  and  long  kept  down, 
have  lately  achieved  a  signal  triumph, 
and  are  stall  advancing  for  the  amelio- 
ration of  social  ills The  essays 

embody  Sismondi's  settled  views  on 
Political  Economy,  and  on  the  true 
policy  which  should  animate  a  Govern- 
ment  After  having  studied  more 

deeply  than  most  men,  the  science  of 
Government  and  the  speculations  of 
Political  Philosophy,  he  settled  down 
into  the  conviction  that  the  principles 
of  Christianity  were  as  applicable  to 
the  life  of  nations  as  to  that  of  indivi- 
duals, and  that  the  happiness  of  the 
people  would  be  best  promoted  by  ob- 
serving them Besides  the  essays 

the  volume  contains  many  curious  illus- 
trations of  the  Life  of  Sismondi 

In  an  ingenious  preliminary  essay  by 
the  translator,  the  views  of  Sismondi 
are  applied  to  our  social  condition  at 
the  present  time.  The  volume  is  alto- 


gether admirably  produced,  and,  we 
think,  is  entitled  to  the  earnest  consi- 
deration of  all  persons  who  take  an 
interest  in  social  politics." — Britannia. 

"  The  work  is  admirably  translated. 
It  has  all  the  vigour  of  original  com- 
position. The  preliminary  notice  by 
the  translator  is  replete  with  enlight- 
ened ideas.  We  heartily  commend  the 
volume  to  all  who  feel  an  interest  in  the 
great  social  and  political  problems 
which  must  soon  be  solved  and  adjust- 
ed, lest  England  is  reduced  to  the  state 
of  Ireland." —  ouglas  JerrohTs  Newt. 


"  Few  recent  writers  on  Political 
Economy  have  claims  on  our  attention 
equal  to  those  of  Sismondi.  In  England 
he  is  best  known  as  an  historian,  but  he 
is  no  less  entitled  to  high  reputation  as 
a  sound  and  thoughtful  expounder  of 
the  social  sciences We  cordially  re- 
commend this  volume,  as  forming  a 
most  pleasant  introduction  to  the  study 
of  the  sciences  of  which  it  treats.  It  is 
both  valuable  in  itself  and  peculiarly 
well  timed." — Atttu. 

"A  writer  of  first-rate  merit  in 
history  and  politics,  and  one  whose 
sympathy  with  the  poor  and  discern- 
ment of  the  true  good  of  men  and  of 
nations  must  give  weight  to  all  his 
moral  convictions,  concerning  the  right 
and  wrong  of  our  results."— Prospective 
Review. 

"  We  should  like  that  these  essays 
should  have  a  wide  circulation,  and 
that  the  tone  of  pure  benevolence 
which  pervades  them  should  thrill  the 
hearts  of  cold-blooded  economists  with 
tenderer  feelings  of  commiseration 
than  usually  mingle  with  their  frigid 
calculations.  There  can  be  no  question 
as  to  the  evils  he  so  powerfully  exposes 
being  directly  caused  by  the  reckless 
application  of  the  principles  he  would 
entirely  discard. 

"  They  will  amply  repay  a  careful 
reading,  as  each  is  a  masterly  discussion 
of  the  most  prominent  questions  rela- 
ting to  our  social  condition." — Noncon- 
formist. 


Thoughts  on  the  Poets. 

By  HENRY  TUCKEHMAN.    Fcp.  8vo,  cloth,  5s. 

Dour  and  Bertha. 

A  Tale.     18mo.  cloth,  Is. 


John  Chapman,  142,  Strand. 


9 


History  of  the  Hebrew  Monarchy,  from  the  Administration  of 

Samuel  to  the  Babylonish  Captivity.     8vo,  cloth,  10s.  6d. 


"  It  ie  truly  refreshing  to  find  Jewish 
history  treated,  as  in  the  volume  before 
us,  according   to  the  rules   of  sound 
criticism,    and   good   sense  .......  The 

publication  of  such  a  work  will  form 
an  epoch  in  biblical  literature  in  this 
country.  "  —  Inquirer. 

"The  Author  has  brought  a  very 
acute  mind,  familar  with  knowledge 
that  is  beyond  the  range  of  ordinary 
scholarship,  to  the  task  of  combining 
and  interpreting  the  antique  and  frag- 
mentary records  which  contain  the 


only  materials  for  his  work."— Proipec- 
tive  Review. 

"This  book  must  be  regarded,  we 
think,  as  the  most  valuable  contribution 
ever  made  in  the  English  Language  to 
our  means  of  understanding  that  por- 
tion of  Hebrew  History  to  which  it 

relates The  Author  has  not  the 

common  superstitious  reverence  for  the 
Bible,  but  he  shows  everywhere  a  large, 
humane,  and  Christian  spirit." — Mas- 
tachuttettt  Quarterly  Review. 


The  Elements  of  Individualism. 

By  WILLIAM  MACCALL.    Post  8vo,  7*.  6d.  cloth. 


"  It  is  a  book  worthy  of  perusal. 
Even  those  who  can  find  no  sympathy 
with  its  philosophy,  will  derive  plea- 
sure and  improvement  from  the  many 
exquisite  touches  of  feeling,  and  the 
many  pictures  of  beauty  which  mark 
its  pages. 

"The  expansive  philosophy,  the  pene- 
trative intellect,  and  the  general 
humanity  of  the  author,  have  rendered 


The  Element!  of  Individualism  a  book  of 
strong  and  general  interest." — Critic. 
"  We  have  been  singularly  interested 

by  this  book Here  is  a  speaker  and 

thinker  whom  we  may  securely  feel  to 
be  a  lover  of  truth,  exhibiting  in  his 
work  a  form  and  temper  of  mind  very 
rare  and  peculiar  in  our  time."—  Man- 
chester Examiner. 


8vo.    12s. 


iv.  Criticism  of  Shakspeare's  Plays, 
v.  Dramas  ascribed  to  Shakspeare  of 

doubtful  Authority. 
vi.  Calderon  and  Goethe  in  their  rela- 
tion to  Shakspeare. 


Shakspeare's  Dramatic  Art,  and  his  relation  to  Calderon  and 

Goethe.    Translated  from  the  German  of  Dr.  HERMANN  ULRICI. 
cloth. 

Outline  of  Contents. 
I.  Sketch  of  the  History  of  the  Eng- 
lish Drama  before  Shakspeare. 
— R.  Greene  and  Marlowe, 
n.  Shakspeare's  Life  and  Times, 
iii.  Shakspeare's  Dramatic  Style,  and 
Poetic  View  of  the  World  and 
Things. 

"We  strongly  recommend  the  book 
to  the  notice  of  every  lover  of  Shaks- 
peare, for  we  may  truly  say  that  it  is 
well  calculated  to  fill  up  a  void  in  our 
own  as  well  as  in  German  literature." — 
Wettminister  Review. 

"  The  author  has  the  '  Philosophic 
depth,'  which  we  vainly  look  for  in 
Schlegel's  criticism  of  the  great  poet." 
— The  Dial. 

"  We  welcome  it  as  an  addition  to  our 
books  on  the  national  dramatist — ex- 
haustive, comprehensive,  and  philo- 
sophical after  a  scholastic  fashion,  and 
throwing  new  lights  upon  many  things 
in  Shakspeare."—  Spectator. 

"  The  work  of  Ulrici  in  the  original, 
has  Held,  ever  since  its  publication,  an 
honoured  place  upon  our  shelves.  We 
consider  it  as  being,  when  taken  all  in 
all,  one  of  the  most  valuable  contribu- 
tions ever  made  to  the  criticism  of 
Shakspeare.  The  theoretical  system 
upon  which  it  rests,  if  not  altogether 
accurate  or  completely  exhaustive,  is, 


at  all  events,  wide  and  searching;  its 
manner  of  expression  is  almost  every- 
where clear  and  practical,  and  its 
critical  expositions  are  given  with 
equal  delicacy  of  feeling  and  liveliness 

or  fancy Here  there  are  treated, 

successively,  Shakspeare's  language, 
his  mode  of  representing  characters, 

and  his  dramatic  invention 

Our  author  has  not  only  spoken 

with  excellent  good  sense,  but  has 
placed  one  or  two  important  points  of 
Shakspeare's  poetical  character  in  a 
clearer  light  than  that  in  which  we  are 
accustomed  to  regard  them.  Shakspeare 
is  shown  to  be  the  historically-dramatic 
poet  of  enlightened  Christianity ;  and 
the  highest  value  of  his  works  consists 
in  their  adequately  representing,  in  the 
light  of  imagination,  the  Christian 
prospect  of  man's  mysterious  destiny." 
— Taifs  Magazine. 

"A  good  translation  of  Dr.  TJlrici's 
work  on  Shakspeare  cannot  fail  of  being 
welcome  to  the  English  thinker.  It  is, 


10 


Jf^orks  publislted  by 


in  fact,  a  vindication  of  our  great  poet 
from  a  charge  which  has  lately  been 
brought  against  him  by  critics  on  both 
sides  of  the  Atlantic.  Dr.  Ulrici  boldly 
claims  for  him  the  rank  of  an  emi- 
nently Christian  author The  pre- 
sent work  is  the  least  German  of  all 
German  books,  and  contains  remark- 
able novelty  in  its  views  of  the  subject 
and  the  arrangement  of  its  topics.  The 
plan  adopted  by  Dr.  Ulrici  of  contem- 
plating each  play  in  the  light  of  a 
central  idea  is  especially  deserving  of 
all  praise  —  We  recommend  the  entire 
criticism  to  the  perusal  of  the  judicious 
reader." — Athen&um. 

"  We  welcome  this  work  as  a  valu- 
able accession  to  Shaksperian  litera- 
ture. It  is  the  principal  object  of  Dr. 
Ulrici's  criticisms  of  the  several  plays, 
to  trace  and  bring  to  light  the  funda- 
mental and  vivifying  idea  of  each.  In 
this  difficult  task  we  think  he  has 
been  eminently  successful We  can- 
not dismiss  this  very  valuable  work, 
which  breathes  a  tone  of  pure  and  ex- 
alted morality,  derived  from  a  mind 


]  truly  religious,  and   whose  holy  and 

!  chastening   influence   expresses   itself 

throughout,    without  remarking   how 

much  we  admire  the  excellent  manner 

in  which  it  is  translated." — Inquirer. 

"  Excellencies  of  a  high  order  per- 
vade this  performance,  which,  in  our 
judgment,  entitle  it  to  the  grateful  re- 
ception of  all  who  are  desirous  of  be- 
coming better  acquainted  with  the 

mind  of  Shakspeare The  sketch 

of  the  modern  dramatic  art  with  which 
the  book  opens,  as  well  as  of  the  life  of 
Shakspeare,  is  well  drawn  ;  indeed,  the 
historical  sketches  throughout  are  ad- 
mirably executed The  author's 

views  are  ingenious,  and  the  criticisms 
on  the  several  dramas  are  admirable, 
and  will  fully  repay  the  reader's  study." 
— Nonconformist. 

"Ulrici's  admirable  '  Shakspeare's 
Dramatic  Art'  has  been  lately  trans- 
lated with  considerable  skill.  We  re- 
commend the  work  as  an  addition  to 
our  higher  critical  literature,  and  we 
should  like  to  recur  to  it  more  fully." — 
Christian  Remembrancer. 


The  Dramas  of  Iphigenia  in  Tauris.  and  Torqnato  Tasso,  of 

GOETHE;  and  the  MAID  OP  ORLEANS,  of  SCHILLER.  Translated, 
(omitting  some  passages,)  with  Introductory  Remarks,  by  ANNA  SWANWICK. 
8vo,  cloth;  6s. 


"  It  is  seldom  that  we  meet  with  a 
translator  so  competent  as  the  lady 
who  has  here  rendered  these  selections 
from  the  two  great  poets  of  Germany 
into  elegant  and  vigorous  English  verse. 
The  '  Iphigenia'  of  Goethe  has  been 
already  well  done  by  Mr.  William  Tay- 
lor, of  Norwich ;  but  his  version  is  not, 
by  many  degrees,  so  readable  as  the 
one  before  us." — Athen&um. 

"  We  have  to  congratulate  the  trans- 
lator on  perfect  success  in  a  very  diffi- 
cult task." — Dublin  University  Magazine. 

"  The  translator  has  gone  to  her 
beautiful  task  in  the  right  spirit,  ad- 
hering with  fidelity  to  the  words  of  the 
original,  and  evidently  penetrating  the 
mind  of  the  poet.  The  translations 


are  very  beautiful ;  and  while  they  will 
serve  to  make  the  mere  English  reader 
acquainted  with  two  of  the  most  perfect 
works  ever  written,  the  Iphigenia  and 
the  Tasso,  they  will  form  useful  assist- 
ants to  those  who  are  commencing  the 
study  of  the  German  language."— Fo- 
reign Quarterly  Review. 

"  This  English  version  presents  these 
poems  to  us  in  a  garb  not  unworthy  of 
the  conceptions  of  their  authors." — 
Morning  Chronicle. 

"  The  verse  is  smooth  and  harmo- 
nious, and  no  one  acquainted  with  the 
original  can  fail  to  be  struck  with  its 
great  fidelity  and  accuracy."—  Christian 
Teacher. 


De  Wette's  Introduction  to  the  Canonical  Scriptures  of  the  Old 

Testament.    Translated  by  THEODORE  PARKER.    2  vols.  8vo.  £1.  4s.  cloth. 

Translations  from  the  German  of  Jean  Paul,  >ovalis,  Goethe, 

UHLAND,  RCCKERT,  and  from  the  French  of  MICKIEWICZ,  an  eminent 
Polish  poet.  By  HENRY  REEVE,  Esq.,  and  JOHN  EDWARD  TAYLOR.  12mo. 
Elegantly  bound  in  cloth,  2s.  6d. 

dress  purely  English." — Sunday  Time*. 
"  Each  extract  is  a  gem." — Critic. 
"  These   translations    are    executed 
with  great  success,  and  introduce  the 
English  reader  to  a  few  pas 'ages  of 
eminent  beauty,  favourably  exhibiting 
the  genius  of  the  several  writers."— 
Inquirer. 


"  Of  all  these  translations  the  chief 
praise  is  that  they  are  executed  with 
singular  delicacy,  taste,  and  power,  so 
that  they  read  like  so  many  finished 
originals.  This  applies  equally  to  the 
verse,  and  to  the  prose.  In  the  scene 
from  Goethe's  "  Tasso"  the  verse  flows 
melodiously,  and  the  ideas  put  on  a 


John  Chapman,  142,  Strand. 


11 


The  Life  of  Jesus,  Critically  Examined. 

By  Dr.  DAVID  FRUEDRICH  STHACSS.    3  vols.  8vo.  £\  16s.  cloth. 


"The  extraordinary  merit  of  this 
book  —  Strauss's  dialectic  dexterity, 
his  forensic  coolness,  the  even  polish  of 
his  style,  present  him  to  us  as  the  ac- 
complished pleader,  too  completely 


venience  has  induced  the  translator 
often  to  supply  the  rendering  into  Eng- 
lish of  a  Greek  quotation,  where  there 
was  no  corresponding  rendering  into 
German  in  the  original.  Indeed, 


master  of  his  work  to  feel  the  teinpta-  j  Strauss  may  well  say,  as  he  does  in  the 
tion  to  unfair  advantage  or  unseemly  !  notice,  which  he  writes  for  this  English 


temper — We  can  testify  that  the 
translator  has  achieved  a  very  tough 
work  with  remarkable  spirit  and  fideli- 
ty. The  author,  though  indeed  a  good 
writer,  could  hardly  have  spoken  better 
had  his  country  and  language  been 
English.  The  work  has  evidently  fal- 
len into  the  hands  of  one  who  has  not 
only  effective  command  of  both  lan- 
guages, but  a  familiarity  with  the  sub- 
ject-matter of  theological  criticism,  and 
an  initiation  into  its  technical  phraseo- 
i  logy." — Weitmintter  and  Foreign  Quar- 
terly Review,  1847. 

"  With  whatever  amount  of  appre- 
hension the  results  of  Strauss's  criti- 
cism may  be  contemplated,  it  remains 
incontestably  true  that  the  claims  of 
science  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  ne- 
cessities of  the  age  on  the  other,  freely 
justify  the  line  of  criticism  which  he  has 
adopted — and  all  the  opposition  made 
to  it  from  so  many  quarters  may  be  in- 
terpreted as  a  requisition  to  a  still 
deeper  and  more  fundamental  pursuit 
of  that  critical  process  which  he  has 
begun." — Dr.  Ferdinand  Christian  Bauer, 
Professor  in  Ordinary  of  Evangelical 
Theology  in  the  University  of  Tubingen. 

"  Whoever  reads  these  volumes  with- 
out any  reference  to  the  German,  must 
be  pleased  with  the  easy,  perspicuous, 
idiomatic,  and  harmonious  force  of  the 
English  style.  But  he  will  be  still 
more  satisfied  when,  on  turning  to  the 
original,,  he  finds  that  the  rendering 
is  word  for  word,  thought  for  thought, 
and  sentence  for  sentence.  In  pre- 
paring so  beautiful  a  rendering  as  the 
present,  the  difficulties  can  have  been 
neither  few  nor  small  in  the  way 
of  preserving,  in  various  parts  of  the 
work,  the  exactness  of  the  translation, 
combined  with  that  uniform  harmony 
and  clearness  of  style,  which  impart 
to  the  volumes  before  us  the  air 
and  spirit  of  an  original.  A  modest 
and  kindly  care  for  his  reader's  con- 


edition,  that  as  far  as  he  has  examined 
it,  the  translation  is,  "  et  accurata  et 
perspicua." " — Prospective  Review. 

"  In  regard  to  learning,  acuteness,  and 
sagacious  conjectures,  the  work  resem- 
bles Niebuhr's  *  History  of  Rome.'  The 
general  manner  of  treating  the  subject 
and  arranging  the  chapters,  sections, 
and  parts  of  the  argument,  indicates 
consummate  dialectical  skill ;  while  the 
style  is  clear,  the  expression  direct,  and 
the  author's  openness  in  referring  to  his 
sources  of  information,  and  stating  his 
conclusions  in  all  their  simplicity,  is 

candid  and  exemplary It  not  only 

surpasses  all  its  predecessors  of  its  kind 
in  learning,  acuteness,  and  thorough 
investigation,  but  it  is  marked  by  a 
serious  and  earnest  spirit." — Christian 
Examiner. 

"  The  position  which  the  Historical 
Scriptures  occupy  in  Stranss's  system 
does  not  seem  to  have  attracted  suffi- 
cient attention  among  ourselves.  It 
addresses  itself,  as  will  have  been 
already  observed,  to  a  higher  element 
in  the  mind  than  the  common  reluct- 
ance to  acquiesce  in  supernatural  narra- 
tives   There  is  not  an  objection,  a 

cavil,  or  rational  solution  which  is  not 
instantly  fused  and  incorporated  into 
his  system." — Christian  Remembrancer. 

"  A  work  which  is  acknowledged,  on 
all  sides,  to  be  a  master- piece  of  its 
kind,  to  evince  signs  of  profound  and 
varied  learning,  and  to  be  written  in  a 
spirit  of  serious  earnestness." — West. Rev. 

"  I  found  in  M.  Strauss  a  young  man 
full  of  candour,  gentleness,  and  modesty 
— one  possessed  of  a  soul  that  was  al-' 
most  mysterious,  and,  as  it  were,  sad- 
dened by  the  reputation  he  had  gained. 
He  scarcely  seems  to  be  the  author  of 
the  work  under  consideration." — Quinet, 
Revue  des  Monde*. 

"  Strauss  is  too  candid  to  be  popular." 
—  Voices  of  the  Church,  by  the  Rev.  J.  R. 
Beard,  D.D. 


Channing's  Works,  Complete. 

Edited  by  JOSEPH  BARKER.    In  6  vols.  12mo.  6s.  sewed;  8s.  cloth. 


"  Channing's  function  was  rather  that 
of  the  prophet  than  that  of  the  scholar 
and  philosopher;  his  scattered  pieces 
have  gone  out  into  the  world  like  so 
many  oracles  of  religious  wisdom ;  he 
uttered  forth  in  tones  of  such  deep 
conviction  and  thrilling  persuasiveness, 
sentiments  and  aspirations  which  lie 


folded  up  in  every  human  breast,— that 
he  has  called  out  a  wide  responsive 
sympathy,  and  made  thousands  receive 
through  the  kindling  medium  of  his 
affectionate  spirit,  a  fresh  communica- 
tion of  religious  life." — Retrospect  of  the 
Religious  Life  of  England,  by  John  James 
Tayler,  B.A. 


Works  published  by 


A  Discourse  of  Hatters  pertaining  to  Religion. 

By  THEODORE  PARKER.    Post  8vo.  7s.  cloth. 


CONTENTS  : 


Book  1.— Of  Religion  in  General ;  or, 

a  Discourse  of  the  Sentiment  and  its 

Manifestations. 
Book  2.— The  Relation  of  the  Religions 

Sentiment  to  God;  or,  a  Discourse 

of  Inspiration. 
Book  3.— The  Relation  of  the  Religious 

Sentiment  to  Jesus  of  Nazareth ;  or, 

a  Discourse  of  Christianity. 

"  Parker  writes  like  a  Hebrew 
prophet,  enriched  by  the  ripest  culture 
of  the  modern  world He  under- 
stands by  sympathy  more  than  by 
criticism  ;  and  convinces  by  force  of 
exposition,  not  by  closeness  of  argu- 
ment. His  loftiest  theories  come  thun- 
dering down  into  life  with  a  rapidity 
and  directness  of  aim  which,  while  they 
alarm  the  timid  and  amaze  the  insin- 
cere, afford  proof  that  he  is  less  eager 
to  be  a  reformer  of  men's  thinking,  than 
a  thinker  for  their  reformation.  Listen- 
ing to  the  American  reformer,  you 
stand  before  a  man  of  high  and  devout 
genius,  who  disposes  of  the  wealth  of 
erudition  in  the  service  of  religion. 
Whatever  judgment  the  reader  may 
pronounce  on  the  philosophy  of  the 

i  volume,  he  will  close  it,  we  venture  to 
affirm,  with  the  consciousness  that  he 
leaves  the  presence  of  a  truly  great 
mind  ;  of  one  who  is  not  only  unop- 
pressed  by  his  large  store  of  learning, 
but  seems  absolutely  to  require  a  mas- 
sive weight  of  knowledge  to  resist  and 
regulate  the  native  force  of  his  thought, 

(  and  occupy  the  grasp  of  his  imagina- 
tion."—  Westminster  and  Foreign  Quar- 
terly Review,  1847. 
"  There  is   a   mastery   shown   over 

'  every  element  of  the  Great  Subject, 
and  the  slight  treatment  of  it  in  parts 
no  reader  can  help  attributing  to  the 
plan  of  the  work,  rather  than  to  the 
incapacity  of  the  author.  From  the 
resources  of  a  mind  singularly  exube- 
rant by  nature  and  laboriously  enriched 
by  culture,  a  system  of  results  is  here 
thrown  up,  and  spread  out  in  luminous 
exposition." — Prospective  Review. 
"Mr.  Parker  is  no  ephemeral  teacher. 


Book  4.— The  Relation  of  the  Religious 
Sentiment  to  the  Greatest  of  Books  ; 
or,  a  Discourse  of  the  Bible. 

Book  5.— The  Relation  of  the  Religious 
Sentiment  to  the  Greatest  of  Human 
Institutions;  or,  a  Discourse  of  the 
Church. 


1  His  aspirations  for  the  future 

are  not  less  glowing  than  his  estimate 
for  the  past.  He  revels  in  warm  anti- 
cipations of  the  orient  splendours,  of 
which  all  past  systems  are  but  the  pre- 
cursors  His  language  is  neither 

narrow  nor  unattractive  ;  there  is  a 
consistency  and  boldness  about  it  which 
will  strike  upon  chords  which,  when 
they  do  vibrate,  will  make  the  ears 

;  more  than  tingle.  We  are  living  in 
an  age  which  deals  in  broad  and  ex- 

j  haustive   theories ;   which   requires   a 

|  system  that  will  account  for  everything, 
and  assigns  to  every  fact  a  place, 
and  that  no  forced  one,  in  the  vast 

'  economy  of  things.  Whatever  defects 
Mr.  Parker's  view  may  have,  it  meets 
these  requisites.  It  is  large  enough, 
and  promising  enough ;  it  is  not  afraid 
of  history.  It  puts  forth  claims  ;  it  is 
an  articulately  speaking  voice.  It  deals 
neither  in  compromise  nor  abatement. 
It  demands  a  hearing ;  it  speaks  with 
authority.  It  has  a  complete  and  de- 
termined aspect.  It  is  deficient  neither 
in  candour  nor  promises ;  and  what- 
ever comes  forward  in  this  way  will 
certainly  find  hearers."—  Christian  Re- 
membrancer. 

"  It  is  impossible  for  any  one  to  read 
the  writings  of  Theodore  Parker  with- 

I  out  being  strongly  impressed  by  them. 

I  They  abound  in  passages  of  fervid  elo- 
quence— eloquence  as  remarkable  for 
the  truth  of  feeling  which  directs  it,  as 
for  the  genius  by  which  it  is  inspired. 
They  are  distinguished  by  philosophical 
thought  and  learned  investigation,  no 
less  than  by  the  sensibility  to  beauty 
and  goodness  which  they  manifest." — 
Christian  Reformer. 


A  Retrospect  of  the  Religions  Life  of  England  ; 


Or,  the  Church,  Puritanism,  and  Free  Inquiry.    By  JOHN  JAMES  TAYL.ER, 
B.A.    Post  8vo.  10s  6d.  cloth. 


"  The  work  is  written  in  a  chastely 
beautiful  style,  manifests  extensive 
reading  and  careful  research ;  is  full 
of  thought,  and  decidedly  original  in 
its  character.  It  is  marked  also  by 
the  modesty  which  usually  characterises 
true  merit."— Inquirer. 

"  Mr.  Tayler  is  actuated  by  no  sec- 
tarian bias,  and  we  heartily  thank  him 


for  this  addition  to  our  religious  litera- 
ture."—  Westminster  Review. 

"  It  is  not  often  our  good  fortune  to 
meet  with  a  book  so  well  conceived, 
so  well  written,  and  so  instructive  as 
this.  The  various  phases  of  the  national 
mind,  described  with  the  clearness  and 
force  of  >Ir.Tayler,furnish  an  inexhaust- 
ible material  for  reflection.  Mr.  Tayler 


John  Chapman,  142,  Strand. 


13 


regards  all  partiesin  turn  from  an  equita- 
ble point  of  view,  is  tolerant  towards  in- 
tolerance, and  admires  zeal  and  excuses 
fanaticism,  wherever  he  sees  honesty. 
Nay,  he  openly  asserts  that  the  religion 
of  mere  reason  is  not  the  religion  to 
produce  a  practical  effect  on  a  people  ; 
and  therefore  regards  his  own  class 
only  as  one  element  in  a  better  poirible 
church.  The  clear  and  comprehen- 
sive grasp  with  which  he  marshals  his 
facts,  is  even  less  admirable  than  the 

Characteristics  of  Painters. 


impartiality,  nay,  more  than  that,  the 
general  kindliness  with  which  he  re- 
flects upon  them."— Examiner. 

"  The  writer  of  this  volume  has 
all  the  calmness  belonging  to  one  who 
feels  himself  not  mixed  up  with  the 
struggle  he  describes.  There  is  about 
it  a  tone  of  great  moderation  and  can- 
dour :  and  we  cannot  but  feel  confident 
that  we  have  here,  at  least,  the  product 
of  a  thoroughly  honest  mind." — Lowe'i 
Edinburgh  Magazine. 


By  HENRY  EEEVE,  Esq.   Second  Edition.  8vo.  Elegantly  bound  in  cloth,  3s. 


"  Though  apparently  addressed  to  a 
narrow  circle,  these  poems  possess 
charms  for  all  persons  who  happen  to 
be  endowed  with  fancy  or  sensibility. 
They  seek  to  express  and  develope  the 
principle  which  presided  over  the  crea- 
tions of  the  great  masters  of  the  mime- 
tic arts,  and  in  most  instances  touch 
with  judgment  and  sagacity  on  the 
characteristic  excellences  of  each 
painter,  and  felicitously  describe  his 
manner  of  representing  nature." — 
Sunday  Time*. 

"  The  associations  connected  with 
particular  pictures  are  blended  with1 


general  characteristics  in  such  vital 
union  in  these  sketches,  that  they  affect 
us  somewhat  like  the  pictures  themselves. 
As  criticisms,  they  show  a  keen  sensi- 
bility to  excellence,  and  the  utmost 
delicacy  of  discrimination ;  and  as 
poems,  they  are  distinguished  by  con- 
densation of  thought,  brilliant  clear- 
ness of  expression,  and  melody  of  ver- 
sification."— Morning  Chronicle. 

"  Every  lover  of  Art  must  read  them 
with  pleasure,  and  they  may  contribute 
not  a  little  to  awaken  a  taste  for  art." — 
Inquirer. 


Historical  Sketches  of  the  Old  Painters. 

By  the  Author  of  the  "  Log  Cabin."    2s.  6d.  paper  cover ;  3s.  cloth. 

Channing's  >Voi-ks.  Complete.    (Hedderwick's  Edition.) 

6  vols.  post  8vo.  reduced  to  £1.  Is.  cloth. 

Ireland,  and  her  Famine. 

A  Discourse.    By  JAMES  MARTINEAU.    12mo.    6d. 


The  Bible  and  the  Child. 

A  Discourse  on  Religious  Education. 


By  JAMES  MARTINEAU.    I2mo.  is. 


Hymns  for  the  Christian  Church  and  Home. 

Edited  by  JAMES  MARTINEAU.    Fifth  Edition,  121110.  3s.  6d.  cloth. 

The  Education  of  Taste. 

A  Series  of  Lectures.    By  WILLIAM  MACCALL.    12mo.  2s.  6d. 

The  Agents  of  Civilization. 

A  Series  of  Lectures.    By  WILLIAM  MACCALL.    12mo.  3s.  6d.  cloth. 

Lectures  to  Young  Men. 


On  the  Cultivation  of  the  Mind,  the  Formation  of  Character,  and  the  Con- 
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The  Evidences  of  the  Genuineness  of  the  Gospels. 

By  ANDREWS  NORTON,  Professor  of  Sacred  Literature,  Harvard  University, 

Massachusetts.    2  vols.  8vo.    £1  cloth. 

***  There  are  about  fifty  pages  of  new  matter  in  the  first  volume,  and  this 
edition  of  the  work  embodies  throughout  various  alterations  and  corrections 
made  by  the  author  at  the  present  time. 

THE  Work  consists  of  three  Parts,  as  follows : — 
PART    I. 

PROOF  THAT  THE  GOSPELS  REMAIN  ESSENTIALLY  THE  SAME  AS  THEY  WERE 
ORIGINALLY    COMPOSED. 


John  Otapman,  142,  Strand. 


19 


PAET  II. 

HISTORICAL  EVIDENCE  THAT  THE  GOSPELS  HAVE  BEEN  ASCRIBED  TO  THEIR 
TRUE  AUTHORS. 

PART  III. 

ON  THE  EVIDENCES  FOR  THE  GENUINENESS  OF  THE  GOSPELS  AFFORDED  BY 
THE  EARLY  HERETICS. 

The  very  copious  Notes  appended  to  each  volume  constitute  about  half  the 
:  amount  of  the  entire  work,  the  principal  subjects  of  which  are  as  follows  :— 

CONTENTS    OF   THE   NOTES. 


NOTE  I.— Further  remarks  on  the 
present  state  of  the  Text  of  the  Gos- 
pels. 

NOTE  II.— Various  readings  of  the 
copies  of  the  gospels  extant  in  the  time 
of  Origen,  which  are  particularly 
noticed  by  him. 

NOTE  III— Undisputedlnterpolations 
in  Manuscripts  of  the  Gospels. 

NOTE  IV.— On  the  Origin  of  the  Cor- 
respondences among  the  first  three 
Gospels. 

NOTE  V.— Justin  Martyr's  Quota- 
tions. 

NOTE  VI.— On  the  Writings  ascribed 
to  Apostolical  Fathers. 

NOTE  VII.— On  the  Statue  which  is 
said  by  Justin  Martyr,  and  others,  to 
have  been  erected  at  Borne  to  Simon 
Magus. 


NOTE  VIII.— On  the  Clementine 
Homilies. 

NOTE  IX.— On  the  false  Charges 
brought  against  the  Heretics,  parti- 
cularly by  the  later  Fathers. 

NOTE  X. — On  the  Jewish  Dispensa- 
tion, Pentateuch,  and  the  other  books 
of  the  Old  Testament. 

NOTE  XL—  On  the  Distinction  made 
by  the  Ancients  between  Things  Intel- 
ligible and  Things  Sensible ;  on  the  use 
of  the  Terms  Spiritual  and  Material,  as 
applied  to  their  Speculations ;  and  on 
the  nature  of  Matter. 

NOTE  XII.— On  Basilides  and  the 
Basilidians. 

NOTE  XIII.— On  the  Gospel  of  Mar- 
cion. 

NOTE  XIV.— On  the  use  of  words 
©EOZandDEUS. 


NOTICES  OF  THE  WORK. 


"  Professor  Norton  has  devoted  a 
whole  volume  full  of  ingenious  reason- 
ing and  solid  learning,  to  show  that  the 
Gnostic  sects  of  the  second  century  ad- 
mitted in  general  the  same  sacred  books 
with  the  orthodox  Christians.  How- 
ever doubtful  may  be  his  complete  suc- 
cess, he  has  made  out  a  strong  case, 
which,  as  far  as  it  goes,  is  one  of  the 
most  valuable  confutations  of  the  ex- 
treme German  XjMf*&***'s an  excellent 
subsidiary  contribution  to  the  proof  of 
the '  genuineness  of  the  Scriptures."  *  *  « 
His  work  on  the  Genuineness  of  the 
Scriptures  is  of  a  high  intellectual 
order." — Quarterly  Review,  March,  1846. 

"  This  (the  2nd  and  3rd  volumes)  is  a 
great  work  upon  the  philosophy  of  the 
early  history  of  our  faith,  and  upon  the 
relations  of  that  faith  with  the  religious 
systems  and  the  speculative  opinions 
which  then  formed  the  belief  or  engaged 
the  attention  of  the  whole  civilized 
world.  The  subject  is  one  of  vast  com- 
pass and  great  importance;  and  for- 
tunately it  has  been  examined  with 
much  thoroughness,  caution,  and  inde- 


pendence. The  conclusions  arrived  at 
are  those  of  one  who  thinks  for  himself, 
—not  created  by  early  prepossessions, 
nor  restricted  within  the  narrow  limits 
of  opinions  peculiar  to  any  school  or 
sect.  JThe  originality  and  good  sense  of 
Mr.  Norton's  general  remarks  impress 
the  reader  quite  as  strongly  as  the  accu- 
racy of  his  scholarship,  and  the  wide 
range  of  learning  with  which  the  subject 
is  illustrated.  His  mind  is  neither 
cumbered  nor  confused  by  the  rich  store 
of  its  acquisitions,  but  works  with  the 
greatest  clearness  and  effect  when  en- 
gaged in  the  most  discursive  and  far- 
reaching  investigations. 

"  A  great  portion  of  the  work,  indeed, 
belongs  to  ecclesiastical  history ;  but  it 
does  not  deal  with  the  men  and  the 
events  of  that  history,  it  relates  almost 
exclusively  to  thoughts  and  theories. 
It  analyzes  systems  of  philosophy;  it 
examines  creeds  ;  it  traces  the  changes 
and  the  influences  of  opinions.  Nearly 
the  whole  of  the  work,  as  the  German 
would  say,  belongs  to  the  history  of 
'pure  reason.'  The  originality  of  Mr. 


20 


Works  published  by 


Norton's  views  is  one  of  their  most 
striking  characteristics.  He  does  not 
deem  it  necessary,  as  too  many  theo- 
logians have  done,  to  defend  the  records 
of  his  faith  by  stratagem.  The  conse- 
quence is,  that  his  work  is  one  of  the 
most  unanswerable  books  that  ever  was 
written.  It  comes  as  near  to  demon- 
stration as  the  nature  of  moral  reason- 
ing will  admit. 

"  As  an  almost  unrivalled  monument 
of  patience  and  industry,  of  ripe  scho- 
larship, thorough  research,  eminent 
ability,  and  conscientious  devotion  to 
the  cause  of  truth,  the  work  may  well 
claim  respectful  consideration.  The 
reasoning  is  eminently  clear,  simple, 
and  direct ;  and  abounds  with  the  re- 
sults of  the  most  profound  learning." — 
North  American  Review. 

"  The  first  volume  of  this  work  was 
published  so  long  ago  as  the  year  1837. 
At  the  close  of  it  the  author  announces 
his  intention  to  pursue  the  argument, 


by  inquiring  into  the  evidence  to  be 
derived  from  the  testimony  of  the 
different  heretical  Sects.  It  is  to  this 
part  of  the  subject  that  the  second  and 
third  volumes,  now  before  us,  are 
directed,— which  are  evidently  the 
fruit  of  much  labour,  research,  and 
extensive  reading  ;  and  contain  a 
variety  of  very  curious  incidental  mat- 
ter, highly  interesting  to  the  studert  of 
ecclesiastical  history,  and  of  the  human 
mind. 

"  There  are  many  interesting  and  cu- 
rious discussions  of  an  incidental  nature. 
Among  these  we  may  particularly  spe- 
cify the  remarks  on  the  character  of  the 
ancient  philosophy  in  the  third  volume, 
and  a  very  curious  note  in  the  appendix 
to  the  same  volume,  on  the  distinctions 
made  by  the  ancients  between  things 
Intelligible  and  things  Sensible,  and  on 
the  nature  of  Matter.— Protpectiee  Re- 
view. 


John  Chapman,  142,  Strand.  21 


Catftolfc 


THE  Publisher  of  "  The  Catholic  Series"  intends  it  to 
consist  of  Works  of  a  liberal  and  comprehensive  character, 
judiciously  selected,  embracing  various  departments  of  literature. 

An  attempt  has  been  made  by  the  Church  of  Rome  to  realize 
the  idea  of  Catholicism — at  least  in  form — and  with  but  a 
partial  success;  an  attempt  will  now  be  made  to  restore 
the  word  Catholic  to  its  primitive  significance,  in  its  appli- 
cation to  this  Series,  and  to  realize  the  idea  of  Catholicism 
in  SPIRIT. 

It  cannot  be  hoped  that  each  volume  of  the  Series  will  be 
essentially  Catholic,  and  not  partial,  in  its  nature,  for 
nearly  all  men  are  partial ; — the  many-sided  and  impartial, 
or  truly  Catholic  man,  has  ever  been  the  rare  exception 
to  his  race.  Catholicity  may  be  expected  in  the  Series, 
not  in  every  volume  composing  it. 

An  endeavour  will  be  made  to  present  to  the  Public 
a  class  of  books  of  an  interesting  and  thoughtful  nature, 
and  the  authors  of  those  of  the  Series  which  may  be  of  a 
philosophical  character  will  probably  possess  little  in  com- 
mon, except  a  love  of  intellectual  freedom  and  a  faith  in 
human  progress ;  they  will  be  united  rather  by  sympathy  of 
SPIRIT  than  by  agreement  in  speculation. 

*  For  List  of  Worts  already  published  in  the  series,  see  pages  23  to  31. 


22  Works  published  by 


CHARACTERIZATION  OF  THE  CATHOLIC  SERIES 
BY  THE  PEESS. 


"  The  various  works  composing  the  "  Catholic  Series,"  should  he  known  to 
all  lovers  of  literature,  and  may  he  recommended  as  calculated  to  instruct  and 
elevate  hy  the  proposition  of  nohle  aims  and  the  inculcation  of  nohle  truths, 
furnishing  reflective  and  cultivated  minds  with  more  wholesome  food  than  the 
nauseous  trash  which  the  popular  tale-writers  of  the  day  set  before  their 
readers." — Morning  Chronicle. 

"Too  much  encouragement  cannot  be  given  to  enterprising  publications 
like  the  present.  They  are  directly  in  the  teeth  of  popular  prejudice  and 
popular  trash.  They  are  addressed  to  the  higher  class  of  readers — those  who 
think  as  well  as  read.  They  are  works  at  which  ordinary  publishers  shudder 
as  '  unsaleable,'  but  which  are  really  capable  of  finding  a  very  large  public." 
— Foreign  Quarterly. 

"  The  works  already  published  embrace  a  great  variety  of  subjects,  and 
display  a  great  variety  of  talent.  They  are  not  exclusively  nor  even  chiefly 
religious ;  and  they  are  from  the  pens  of  German,  French,  American,  as  well 
as  English  authors.  Without  reference  to  the  opinion  which  they  contain,  we 
may  safely  say  that  they  are  generally  such  as  all  men  of  free  and  philoso- 
phical minds  would  do  well  to  know  and  ponder." — Nonconformist. 

"  This  series  deserves  attention,  both  for  what  it  has  already  given,  and  for 
what  it  promises." — Tait's  Magazine. 

"  A.  series  not  intended  to  represent  or  maintain  a  form  of  opinion,  but  to 
bring  together  some  of  the  works  which  do  honour  to  our  common  nature, 
by  the  genius  they  display,  or  by  their  ennobling  tendency  and  lofty  aspira- 
tions."— Inquirer. 

"  It  is  highly  creditable  to  Mr.  Chapman  to  find  his  name  in  connexion 
with  so  much  well-directed  enterprise  in  the  cause  of  German  literature  and 
philosophy.  He  is  the  first  publisher  who  seems  to  have  proposed  to  himself 
the  worthy  object  of  introducing  the  English  reader  to  the  philosophic  mind 
of  Germany,  uninfluenced  by  the  tradesman's  distrust  of  the  marketable  nature 
of  the  article.  It  is  a  very  praiseworthy  ambition ;  and  we  trust  the  public 
will  justify  his  confidence.  Nothing  could  be  more  unworthy  than  the  at- 
tempt to  discourage,  and  indeed  punish,  such  unselfish  enterprise,  by  attaching 
a  bad  reputation  for  orthodoxy  to  every  thing  connected  with  German  philo- 
sophy and  theology.  This  is  especially  unworthy  in  the  'student,'  or  the 
'  scholar,'  to  borrow  Fichte's  names,  who  should  disdain  to  set  themselves  the 
task  of  exciting,  by  their  friction,  a  popular  prejudice  and  clamour  on  matters 
on  which  the  populace  are  no  competent  judges,  and  have,  indeed,  no  judgment 
of  their  own, — and  who  should  feel,  as  men  themselves  devoted  to  thought, 
that  what  makes  a  good  book  is  not  that  it  should  gain  its  reader's  acquiescence, 
but  that  it  should  multiply  his  mental  experience ;  that  it  should  acquaint  him 
with  the  ideas  which  philosophers  and  scholars,  reared  by  a  training  different 
from  their  own,  have  laboriously  reached  and  devoutly  entertain ;  that,  in  a 
word,  it  should  enlarge  his  materials  and  his  sympathies  as  a  man  and  a 
thinker." — Prospective  Review. 

"  A  series  of  serious  and  manly  publications." — Economist. 


John  Chapman,  142,  Strand. 


23 


Catholic   Series. 


The  Vocation  of  Ian. 

By  JOHANN  GOTTLIEB  FiCHTE.    Translated  from  the  German,  by  WIL- 
LIAM SMITH.    Post  8vo,  cloth.  [In the  Preit. 
The   Destination  or  Vocation  of  ;  which  have  hitherto  escaped  your  in- 


a'  is,  as  Fichte  truly  says,  intelligible     dolen 
-11  readers  who  are  really  able  to  un-     terly. 


3Ian 
to  all  re 

derstand  a  book  at  all ;  and  as  the  his- 
tory of  the  mind  in  its  various  phases  of 
doubt,  knowledge,  and  faith,  it  is  of 
interest  to  all.  Agree  with  Fichte,  or 
disagree  with  him,  you  cannot  help 
being  carried  along  by  his  earnestness  ; 
you  cannot  help  being  struck  with  his 
subtlety  and  depth.  Argument,  in  such 
a  matter,  we  take  to  be  wholly  in- 
different. A  book  of  this  stamp  is  sure 
to  teach  you  much,  because  it  excites 
thought.  If  it  rouses  you  to  combat 
his  conclusions,  it  has  done  a  good 
work ;  for  in  that  very  effort  you  are 
stirred  to  a  consideration  of  points 


nt   acquisescence." — Foreign 


The  Vocation  of  Man  '  is  Fichte's 
most  popular  work,  and  is  every  way 
remarkable.  Aware  that  the  great 
public  was  fully  competent  to  grapple 
with  the  most  arduous  problems  of 
philosophy,  when  lucidly  stated,  how- 
ever it  might  shrink  from  the  jargon 
of  the  schools,  Fichte  undertook '  to 
present  his  opinions  in  a  popular 
form."  ....  — Atlas. 

"It  appears  to  us  the  boldest  and 
most  emphatic  attempt  that  has  yet 
been  made  to  explain  to  man  his  rest- 
less and  unconquerable  desire  to  win 
the  true  and  the  eternal." — Sentinel. 


On  the  Nature  of  the  Scholar,  and  its  Manifestations. 

By  JOHANN  GOTTLIEB  FICHTE.     Translated  •  from  the  German  by  WIL- 
LIAM SMITH.    Second  Edition.    Post  8vo.  cloth.  [/n  the  Prest. 


"  With  great  satisfaction  we  welcome 
this  first  English  translation  of  an 
author  who  occupies  the  most  exalted 
position  as  a  profound  and  original 
thinker ;  as  an  irresistible  orator  in  the 
cause  of  what  he  believed  to  be  truth ; 
as  a  thoroughly  honest  and  heroic  man. 
....  The  appearance  of  any  of  his 
works  in  our  language  is,  we  believe,  a 

perfect  novelty These  orations 

are  admirably  fitted  for  their  purpose ; 
so  grand  is  the  position  taken  by  the 
lecturer,  and  so  irresistible  their  elo- 
quence."— Examiner. 

"  We  state  Fichte's  character  as  it  is 


known  and  admitted  by  men  of  all' 
parties  among  the  Germans,  when  we 
say  that  so  robust  an  intellect,  a  soul  so 
calm,  so  lofty,  massive,  and  immove- 
able,  has  not  mingled  in  philosophical 
discussion  since  the  time  of  Luther. 
....  Fichte's  opinions  may  be  true 
or  false ;  but  his  character  as  a  thinker 
can  be  slightly  valued  only  by  such  as 
know  it  ill ;  and  as  a  man,  approved  by 
action  and  suffering,  in  his  life  and  in 
his  death,  he  ranks  with  a  class  of  men 
who  were  common  only  in  better  ages 
than  ours." — State  of  German  Litera- 
ture, by  Thomas  Carlyle. 


Just  Published. 
The  Characteristics  of  the  Present  Age. 


By  JOHANN  GOTTLIEB  FICHTE.   Translated  from  the  German,  by  William 
Smith.    Post  8vo.  cloth,  7s. 


"  A  noble  and  most  notable  acquisi- 
tion to  the  literature  of  England." — 
Douglat  JerrohTt  Weekly  Paper. 

"  We  accept  these  lectures  as  a  true 
and  most  admirable  delineation  of  the 
present  age ;  and  on  this  ground  alone 
we  should  bestow  on  them  our  heartiest 
recommendation ;  but  it  is  because  they 
teach  us  how  we  may  rise  above  the  age, 
that  we  bestow  on  them  our  most 
emphatic  praise. 

"He  makes  us  think,  and  perhaps 
more  sublimely  than  we  have  ever  for- 
merly thought,  but  it  is  only  in  order 
that  we  may  the  more  nobly  act. 

"  As  a  majestic  and  most   stirring 


utterance  from  the  lips  of  the  greatest 
German  prophet,  we  trust  that  the 
book  will  find  a  response  in  many  an 
English  soul,  and  potently  help  to  re- 
generate English  Society."—  The  Critic. 
"  These  lectures  show  the  largeness 
of  Fichte's  views,  how  completely  he  is 
the  reverse  of  an  egotist  in  any  received 
sense  of  the  word,  and  how  thoroughly 
he  is  devoted  to  the  race  of  mankind  as 
distinguished  from  the  individual  man. 
Fichte  is  not  only  a  speculator,  but  a 
character :  in  every  thing  that  proceeds 
from  him  there  is  the  mark  of  noble- 
ness."— Atlas. 


Works  published  by 


THE  CATHOLIC  SERIES — continued. 
Memoir  of  Johaim  Gottlieb  Fichte. 

By  WILLIAM  SMITH.    Second  edition,  enlarged.    Post  8vo,  cloth  4s.  6d. 
"  The  material  trials  that  Fichte  en-  ;  moral  light  that  falls  everywhere  upon 


countered  in  the  body  are  lost  sight  of 
in  the  spiritual  contest  which  he  main- 
tained with  his  own  mind.  The  page 
that  keeps  the  record  of  incidents  is 
dignified  throughout  by  the  strong 


it,  like  a  glory,  and  sweetened  by  a 
living  episode  that  flows  through  its 
dark  and  bright  places  like  a  stream  of 
music." — AiheneEum. 


Recently  Published. 
The  Vocation  of  the  Scholar. 

By  JOHANN  GOTTLIEB  FICHTE.   Translated  from  the  German,  by  William 
Smith.    Post  8vo.  cloth,  2s. ;  paper  cover,  Is.  6d. 


"  '  The  Vocation  of  the  Scholar'  is  a 
sort  of  appendix  to  '  The  Nature  of  the 
Scholar  and  its  Manifestations,'  and  is 
distinguished  by  the  same  high  moral 
tone,  and  manly,  vigorous  expression 
which  characterize  all  Fichte's  works 
in  the  German,  and  is  nothing  lost  in 
Mr.  Smith's  clear,  unembarrassed,  and 
thoroughly  English  translation.  "  — 
Douglas  Jerrol(Fi  Newspaper. 

"  We  are  glad  to  see  this  excellent 


translation  of  one  of  the  best  of 
Fichte's  works  presented  te  the  public 

in  a  very  neat  form No  class  needs 

an  earnest  and  sincere  spirit  more  than 
the  literary  class ;  and,  therefore  the 
'  Vocation  of  the  Scholar,'  the  '  Guide 
of  the  Human  Kace,'  written  in  Fichte's 
most  earnest,  most  commanding  tem- 
per, will  be  welcomed  in  its  English 
dress  by  public  writers,  and  be  benefi- 
cial to  the  cause  of  truth." — Economist. 


Characteristics  of  len  of  Genius ; 


A  Series  of  Biographical,  Historical,  and  Critical  Essays,  selected  by  per- 
mission, chiefly  from  the  North  American  Eeview,  with  Preface,  by  JOHN 
CHAPMAN.  2  vols.  post  8vo.  cloth,  12s. ;  extra  cloth,  gilt  edges,  14s. 

CONTENTS. 

GREGORY  VII.,  LOYOLA,  PASCAL. 
DANTE,  PETHAHCH,  SHELLEY,  BYRON,  GOETHE,  WORDSWORTH, 

MILTON,  SCOTT,  THE  GERMAN  POETS. 
MICHAEL  ANGELO,  CANOVA. 
MACHIAVELLI,  Louis  IX.,  PETER  THE  GREAT. 


"  Essays  of  very  high  order,  which 
from  their  novelty,  and  their  intrinsic 
value,  we  are  sure  will  receive  from  the 
British  public  a  reception  commen- 
surate with  their  merits They  are 

Essays  which  would  do  honour  to  the 
literature  of  any  country." — Westmin- 
ster Review. 

"  Essays  of  great  power  and  interest. 
In  freedom  of  opinion,  and  occa- 
sionally in  catholicity  of  judgment,  the 
writers  are  superior  to  our  own  periodi- 
cal essayists ;  but  we  think  there  is  less 
brilliancy  and  point  in  them ;  though 
on  that  very  account  there  is,  perhaps, 
greater  impartiality  and  justice." — 
Douglas  Jerrold's  Magazine. 

"Rich  as  we  are  in  this  delightful 
department  of  Literature,  we  gladly 
accept  another  contribution  to  critical 

biography The  American  writers 

keep  more  closely  to  their  text  than  our 
own  reviewers,  and  are  less  solicitous  to 
construct  a  theory  of  their  own,  and 
thereby  run  the  risk  of  discolouring  the 


facts  of  history,  than  to  take  a  calm 
and  dispassionate  survey  of  events  and 
opinions."— Morning-  Chronicle. 

"  Essays  well  worthy  of  an  European 
Life." — Christian  Reformer. 

"  The  collection  before  us  is  able  and 
readable,  with  a  good  deal  of  interest 
in  its  subjects.  They  exhibit  force,  just- 
ness of  remark,  an  acquantance  with 
their  subject,  beyond  the  mere  book 
reviewed ;  much  clear-headed  pains- 
taking in  the  paper  itself,  where  the 
treatment  requires  pains,  a  larger  and 
more  liberal  spirit  than  is  often  found 
in  Transatlantic  literature,  and  some- 
times a  marked  and  forcible  style." — 
Spectator. 

"  A  work  that  will  be  right  welcome 
to  all  lovers  of  literature,  and  which 
ought  to  be  ordered  by  every  book- 
club."— Critic. 

"  There  is  hardly  one  of  these  papers 
that  has  not  great  merit." — Inquirer. 

"  This  is  truly  a  delightful  book.  We 
heartily  welcome  it  as  worthy  to  take 


John  CAaptnan,  142,  Strand. 


THE  CATHOLIC  SERIES — (continued.) 


beauty  of  its  execution."— Nonconform. 
"The  value,  both  intrinsic  and  ex- 
trinsic, of  these  essays  justly  claims  for 
them  a  favourable  reception  and  atten- 
tive perusal  in  England." — Manchetter 
Examiner. 


its  stand  by  the  side  of  the  •  Contri- 
butions' of  our  own  great  reviewers. 
Each  essay,  having  for  its  object  the 
development  of  the  characteristics  of 
one  mind,  is  complete  in  itself,  and 
almost  perfect  in  the  elegance  and 

The  Worship  of  Genios  ; 

Being  an  Examination  of  the  Doctrine  announced  by  D.  F.  Stratat,  viz. 
"  That  to  our  Ajje  of  Religious  Disorganization  nothing  is  left  but  a  Worship 
of  Genius ;  that  is,  a  Reverence  for  those  great  Spirits  who  create  Epochs  in 
the  Progress  of  the  Human  Race,  and  in  whom,  taken  collectively,  the  God- 
like manifests  itself  to  us  most  fully,"  and  thus  having  reference  to  the  views 
unfolded  in  the  work  entitled,  "  Heroes  and  Hero-worship,"  by  Thomas  Carlyle. 

AND 

The  Distinctive  Character  or  Essence  of  Christianity : 

An  Essay  relative  to  Modern  Speculations  and  the  present  State  of  Opinion. 
Translated,  from  the  German  of  Prof.  C.  Ullmann,  by  LCCY  SANFORD.  1  vol. 
post  8vo.  3s.  I'M i. 

CONTENTS. 


1.  General  view  of  the  object  of  the 

work. 

2.  The  different  stages  of  development 

through  which  Christianity  itself 
has  passed.  The  same  phases 
perceptible  in  the  views  which 
have  been  successively  taken  of  it. 

3.  Christianity   as   Doctrine_.     Under 

this  head  are  comprised  both 
Supernaturalism  and  Natu- 
ralism. 

4.  Christianity  as  a  Moral  Law.    The 

philosophy  of  Kant.  Ration- 
alism. 

5.  Christianity  as  the  Religion  of  Re- 

demption. Schleiennacher's  de- 
finition. 


6.  The  peculiar  significance  and  in- 

fluence   of    Christ's    individual 
character. 

7.  The  views  of  Hegel  and  his  school. 

8.  Christ  as  the  exemplification  of  the 

union  of  the  Divine  and  Human 
in  one  character. 

9.  Importance  of  this  truth  for  the  de- 

finition of  the  distinctive  Charac- 
ter of  Christianity. 

10.  Christianity  as  the  Perf .  ct  Religion. 

1 1 .  Inferences  from  the  p:  ceding. 

12.  Retrospect    and    epitcme   of   the 

argument. 

13.  Application  of  the  preceding  to  the 

idea  of  Faith. 

14.  Application  to  the  Church. 


***  The  above  two  works  are  comprised  in  one  volume,  post  8vo.  3s.  6d.  cloth. 


"  There  are  many  just  and  beautiful 
conceptions  expressed  and  developed, 
and  the  mode  or  utterance  and  illustra- 
tion is  more  clear  and  simple  than  that 
adopted  often  by  our  German  brethren 
in  treating  such  topics." — Nonconformist. 


"  There  is  in  it  much  important  and 
original  thought.  Intelligent  British 
Christians,  who  are  inclined  to  take 
philosophical  views  of  the  Christian 
faith,  will  find  much  to  delight  and  in- 
struct them." — Baptist  Magazine. 


The  Mission  of  the  German  Catholics. 

By  Prof.  G.  G.  GERVINUS,  Author  of   the  "  Geschichte  der  Poetischen 
National- Literatur  der  Deutschen."    Post  8vo.  Is.  4d. 


"This  work  well  deserves  an  intro- 
duction to  an  English  public.  It  con- 
tains the  reflections  of  a  German  philo- 
sopher on  the  extraordinary  religious 
movement  which  is  now  agitating  his 
countrymen ;  his  anticipations,  and  his 
wishes  respecting  its  results." — Inquirer. 

In  an  article  upon  the  Author's 
"  History  of  the  Poetical  Literature  of 
the  Germans,"  the  North  American 


Review  says  :— "  He   exhibits  the  ex- 
tensive  and   profound   erudition,   the 
historical  faculty  of  bringing  past  and 
remote  states  of  society  near,  and  pro- 
jecting the  present  into  the  distance; 
!  and  the  philosophical  insight  into  the 
I  distinguishing  features  of  individuals, 
'  communities,    and    epochs,   which   so 
favourably  characterize  the  recent  his- 
toriography of  the  Germans." 


26 


Works  published  ly 


THE  CATHOLIC  SERIES — (continued.) 
The  Mental  History  of  an  Inquiring  Spirit. 

By  O.  A.  BROWNSON.    Post  8vo.  4s.  cloth ; 


A  Biography  of  Charles  Elwood. 
3s.  6d.  paper  cover. 

"  This  work  is  an  attempt  to  pre- 
sent Christianity  so  that  it  shall  satisfy 
the  philosophic  element  of  our  nature. 
In  this  consists  its  peculiar  merit  and 
its  distinctive  characteristic.  Such  a 
book  was  certainly  very  much  needed. 
We  have  no  doubt  that  it  will  add  many 
a  doubter  to  a  cheerful  faith,  and  con- 
firm many  a  feeble  mind  in  the  faith  it 
has  already  professed.  Mr.  Brownson 
addresses  the  philosophic  element,  and 
the  men  in  whom  this  element  is  pre- 
dominant ;  and,  of  course,  he  presents 
the  arguments  that  would  be  the  most 
striking  and  satisfactory  to  this  class  of 
men.  In  so  far  as  he  has  succeeded,  he 
must  be  considered  to  have  done  a  meri- 
torious work.  We  think  Mr.  Brownson 
eminently  qualified  for  this  task,  and 
that  his  success  is  complete.  The  work 
will,  doubtless,  be  the  means  of  giving 
composure  and  serenity  to  the  faith  of 
many  who  are  as  yet  weak  in  the  faith, 
or  halting  between  two  opinions." — 
Christian  Examiner. 

"  In  a  series  of  chapters,  Mr.  Morton 
explains  the  nature  of  the  Christian 
faith,  and  replies  to  the  objections 
raised  by  Elwood  as  the  discussion  pro- 
ceeds, and  the  argument  we  take  to  be 
conclusive,  though  of  course  every  one 
may  differ  as  to  details.  The  mighty 
theme  is  handled  in  a  most  masterly 
style,  and  the  reasoning  may  fairly  be 
called  'mathematical.'  There  is  nei- 
ther rant  nor  cant,  hypothesis  or  dog- 
matism. Christianity  is  proved  to  be 
a  'rational  religious  system,'  and  the 
priest  is  exhibited  in  his  true  character. 


We  can  cordially  recommend  the  vo- 
lume, after  a  very  careful  perusal,  to  the 
layman  who  desires  to  think  for  him- 
self, and  to  the  clergy,  as  eminently 
calculated  to  enlarge  their  views  and 
increase  their  usefulness,  by  showing 
them  the  difference  between  sectarian- 
ism and  Christianity." — Sentinel. 

"  The  purposes,  m  this  stage  of  his 
progress,  which  Mr.  Brownson  has  in 
view  are,  the  vindication  of  the  reality  of 
the  religious  principle  in  the  nature  of 
man ;  the  existence  of  an  order  of  senti- 
ments higher  than  the  calculations  of 
the  understanding  and  the  deductions 
of  logic ;  the  foundation  of  morals  on 
the  absolute  idea  of  right  in  opposition 
to  the  popular  doctrine  of  expediency ; 
the  exposition  of  a  spiritual  philosophy ; 
and  the  connexion  of  Christianity  with 
the  progress  of  society. 

"  The  work  presents  the  most  profound 
ideas  in  a  simple  and  attractive  form. 
The  discussion  of  these  principles, 
which  in  their  primitive  abstraction  are 
so  repulsive  to  most  minds,  is  carried 
on,  through  the  medium  of  a  slight  fic- 
tion, with  considerable  dramatic  effect. 
We  become  interested  in  the  final 
opinions  of  the  subjects  of  the  tale,  as 
we  do  in  the  catastrophe  of  a  romance. 
A  slender  thread  of  narrative  is  made 
to  sustain  the  most  weighty  arguments 
on  the  philosophy  of  religion ;  but  the 
conduct  both  of  the  story  and  of  the 
discussion  is  managed  with  so  much 
skill,  that  they  serve  to  relieve  and  for- 
ward each  other." — Dial. 


The  Philosophical  and  ./Esthetic  Letters  and  Essays  of  Schiller. 

Translated,  with  an  Introduction,  by  J.  WEISS.    Post  8vo.  7s.  6d.  cloth. 


"  These  Letters  stand  unequalled  in 
the  department  of  ^Esthetics,  and  are  so 
esteemed  even  in  Germany,  which  is  so 
fruitful  upon  that  topic.  Schiller  is 
Germany's  best  ^sthetician,  and  these 
letters  contain  the  highest  moments  of 
Schiller.  Whether  we  desire  rigorous 
logical  investigation  or  noble  poetic  ex- 
pression, whether  we  wish  to  stimulate 
the  intellect  or  inflame  the  heart,  we 
need  seek  no  further  than  these.  They 
are  trophies  won  from  an  unpopular, 
metaphysical  form,  by  a  lofty,  inspiring, 
and  absorbing  subject." — Introduction. 

"  It  is  not  possible,  in  a  brief  notice 
like  the  present,  to  do  more  than  inti- 
mate the  kind  of  excellence  of  a  book 
of  this  nature.  It  is  a  profound  and 
beautiful  dissertation,  and  must  be  dili- 


gently studied  to  be  comprehended. 
After  all  the  innumerable  efforts  that the 
present  age  has  been  some  time  making 
to  cut  a  Royal  road  to  everything,  it  is 
beginning  to  find  that  what  sometimes 
seems  the  longest  way  round  is  the 
shortest  way  home ;  and  if  there  be  a 
desire  to  have  truth,  the  only  way  is  to 
work  at  the  windlass  one's  self,  and 
bring  up  the  buckets  by  the  .labour  of 
one's  own  good  arm.  Whoever  works 
at  the  present  well,  will  find  ample 
reward  for  the  labour  they  may  bestow 
on  it ;  the  truths  he  will  draw  up  are 
universal,  and  from  that  pure  elemen- 
tary fountain  'that  maketh  wise  he  that 
drinketh  thereat.'" — Douglat  Jerrold't 
Magazine. 
"  It  is  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to 


John  Chapman,  142,  Strand. 


27 


THE  CATHOLIC  SERIES — (continued.) 


give  a  brief,  and  at  the  same  time  faith- 
i  ful,  summary  of  the  ideas  affirmed  by 
i  Schiller  in  this  volume.    Its  aim  is  to 
i  develop  the  ideal  of  humanity,  and  to 
!  define  the  successive  steps  which  must 
I  be   trodden   to   attain  it.     Its   spirit 
aspires  after  human  improvment,  and 
seeks  to  indicate  the  means  of  realiza- 
i  tion.    Schiller  insists  upon  the  necessi- 
ty of  aesthetic  culture  as  preliminary  to 
moral  culture,  and  in  order  to  make 
the  latter  possible.    According  to  the 
doctrine  here  set  forth,  until  man  is 
aesthetically  developed,  he  cannot  be 
morally  free,  hence  not  responsible,  as 
there  is  no  sphere  for  the  operation  of 
the  will. 

"  The  style  in  which  the  whole  volume 
is  written  is  particularly  beautiful,  there 
is  a  consciousness  of  music  in  every  page 
we  read ;  it  it  remarkable  for  the  con- 
densation of  thought  and  firm  consist- 
ency which  prevails  throughout;  and. 
so  far  as  we  are  able  to  judge,  the 
translation  is  admirably  and  faithfully 
rendered.  The  twenty-seven  letters 
upon  the  '  ^Esthetic  Culture  of  Man," 
form  the  most  prominent,  and  by  far 
the  most  valuable,  portion  of  the  work ; 
they  will  be  found  full  of  interest  and 
the  choicest  riches,  which  will  abund- 
antly repay  any  amount  of  labour 
bestowed  upon  them." — Inquirer. 


"  This  is  a  book  which  demands  and 
deserves  study.  Either  to  translate  or 
to  appreciate  it  requires  a  somewhat 
peculiar  turn  of  mind.  Not  that  any 
body  could  read  it  without  profit,  but  to 
gain  from  it  all  that  it  is  capable  ol 
yielding,  there  must  be  some  aptitude 
for  such  studies,  and  some  training  in 

them  too To  b«  appreciated 

it  must  be  studied,  and  the  study 
will  be  well  repaid." — Christian  Ex- 
aminer. 

"Here  we  must  close,  unwillingly, 
this  volume,  so  abounding  in  food  for 
thought,  so  fruitful  of  fine  passages, 
heartily  commending  it  to  all  of  pur 
readers  who  desire  to  make  acquaint- 
ance with  the  philosophy  of  art.  The 
extracts  we  have  taken  will  prove  what 
a  treasure  is  here,  for  they  are  but  a 
fraction  of  the  gems  that  are  to  be 
gathered  in  every  page.  We  make  no 
apology  for  having  so  long  lingered  over 
this  book;  for,  albeit,  philosophy  is 
somewhat  out  of  fashion  in  our  age  of 
materialism,  it  yet  will  find  its  votaries, 
fit  though  few ;  and  even  they  who  care 
not  for  the  higher  regions  of  reflection, 
cannot  fail  to  reap  infinite  pleasure 
from  the  eloquent  and  truthful  passages 
we  have  sought  to  cull  for  their  mingled 
delight  and  edification." — Critic. 


The  Philosophy  of  Art. 

An  Oration  on  the  Relation  of  the  Plastic  Arts  to  Nature.  Translated  from 
the  German  of  F.  W.  J.  VON  SCHILLING,  by  A.  JOHNSON.  Post  8vo.  Is. 
paper  cover ;  Is.  6d.  cloth. 


"  This  excellent  oration  is  an  appli- 
cation to  art  of  Schelling's  general 
philosophic  principles.  Schelling  takes 
the  bold  course,  and  declares  that  what 
is  ordinarily  called  nature  is  not  the 
summit  of  perfection,  but  is  only  the 
inadequate  manifestation  of  a  high 
idea,  which  it  is  the  office  of  man  to 
penetrate.  The  true  astronomer  is  not 
be  who  notes  down  laws  and  causes 
which  were  never  revealed  to  sensuous 
organs,  and  which  are  often  opposed  to 
the  prima  facie  influences  of  sensuous 
observers.  The  true  artist  is  not  he  who 
merely  imitates  an  isolated  object  in 
nature,  but  he  who  can  penetrate  into 
the  unseen  essence  that  lurks  behind 
the  visible  crust,  and  afterwards  re- 
produce it  in  a  visible  form.  In  the 
surrounding  world  means  and  ends  are 


clashed  and  jarred  together ;  in  the 
work  of  art  the  heterogenjus  is  ex- 
cluded, and  an  unity  is  attained  not  to 
be  found  elsewhere.  Schelling,  in  his 
oration,  chiefly,  not  exclusively,  regards 
the  arts  of  painting  and  sculpture ;  but 
his  remarks  will  equally  apply  to 
others,  such  as  poetry  and  music.  This 
oration  of  Schelling's  deserves  an  exten- 
sive perusal.  The  translation,  with  the 
exception  of  a  few  trifling  inaccurrcies, 
is  admirably  done  by  Sir.  Johnson : 
and  we  know  of  no  work  in  our  language 
better  suited  to  give  a  notion  of  the  turn 
which  German  philosophy  took  after  it 
abandoned  the  subjectivity  of  Kant  and 
Fichte.  The  notion  will,  of  course,  be 
a  faint  one ;  but  it  is  something  to  know 
the  latitude  and  longitude  of  a  mental 
position." — Examiner. 


28 


Works  published  by 


THE    CATHOLIC    SERIES (continued.) 


The  Life  of  Jean  Paul  Fr.  Richter. 


Compiled  from  various  sources.    Together  with  his  Autobiography.    Transla- 
ted from  the  German.    2  vols.  paper  cover,  7s. ;  cloth,  8s. 


"  The  autobiography  of  Richter,  which 
extends  only  to  his  twelfth  year,  is  one 
of  the  most  interesting  studies  of  a  true 
poet's  childhood  ever  given  to  the 
world." — Lowe's  Edinburgh  Magazine. 

"  Richter  has  an  intellect  vehement, 
rugged,  irresistible,  crushing  in  pieces 
the  hardest  problems ;  piercing  into  the 
most  hidden  combinations  of  things, 
and  grasping  the  most  distant;  an 
imagination  vague,  sombre,  splendid, 
or  appalling,  brooding  over  the  abysses 
of  being,  wandering  through  infinitude, 
and  summoning  before  us,  in  its  dim 
religious  light,  shapes  of  brilliancy, 
solemnity,  or  terror;  a  fancy  of  exu- 
berance literally  unexampled,  for  it 
pours  its  treasures  with  a  lavishness 
which  knows  no  limit,  hanging,  like 
the  sun,  a  jewel  on  every  grass-blade, 
and  sowing  the  earth  at  large  with 
orient  pearls.  But  deeper  than  all 
these  lies  humour,  the  ruling  quality 
of  RICHTER— as  it  were  the  central  fire 
that  pervades  and  vivifies  his  whole 
being.  He  is  a  humorist  from  his  in- 
most soul ;  he  thinks  as  a  humorist ;  he 
imagines,  acts,  feels  as  a  humorist: 
sport  is  the  element  in  which  his 
nature  lives  and  works." — THOMAS 
CARLYLE. 

"  With  such  a  writer  it  is  no  common 
treat  to  be  intimately  acquainted.  In 
the  proximity  of  great  and  virtuous 
minds  we  imbibe  a  portion  of  their  na- 
ture— feel,  as  mesmerists  say,  a  health- 
ful contagion,  are  braced  with  the  same 
spirit  of  faith,  hope,  and  patient  en- 
durance— are  furnished  with  data  for 
clearing  up  and  working  out  the  intri- 
cate problem  of  life,  and  are  inspired, 
like  them,  with  the  prospect  of  immor- 
tality. No  reader  of  sensibility  can  rise 
from  the  perusal  of  these  volumes  with- 
out becoming  both  wiser  and  better." — 
Atlat. 

"We  find  in  the  present  biography 
much  that  does  not  so  much  amuse 
and  instruct,  as,  to  adopt  a  phrase  from 
the  religious  world,  positively  edify  the 
reader.  The  life  of  Richter  is  indeed 
a  moral  and  a  religious,  as  much  as  a 
literary  treat,  to  all  who  have  a  sense 
exercised  to  discern  religion  and  mora- 
lity as  a  thing  essentially  different  from 
mere  orthodoxy  and  asceticism.  The 
two  volumes  before  us  cannot  be  se- 
riously read  without  stimulating  the 
reader,  like  a  good  sermon,  to  self-ame- 
lioration, and  in  this  respect  they  are 
invaluable. 

"  Richter  is  a  thorough  Christian,  and 
a  Christian  with  a  large  glowing  human 


heart.  The  appearance  of  his  biography 
in  an  English  form  cannot,  therefore, 
but  be  regarded  as  a  great  boon  to  the 
best  interests  of  the  country." — Taift 
Magazine. 

"  Apart  from  the  interest  of  the  work, 
as  the  life  of  Jean  Paul,  the  reader 
learns  something  of  German  life  and 
German  thought,  and  is  introduced  to 
Weimar  during  its  most  distinguished 
period — when  Goethe,  Schiller,  Herder, 
and  Wieland,  the  great  fixed  stars  of 
Germany,  in  conjunction  with  Jean 
Paul,  were  there,  surrounded  by  beau- 
tiful and  admiring  women,  of  the  most 
refined  and  exalted  natures,  and  of 
princely  rank.  It  is  full  of  passages  so 
attractive  and  valuable  that  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  make  a  selection  as  examples  of 
its  character."—  Inquirer. 

"  This  book  will  be  found  very  valu- 
able as  an  introduction  to  the  study  of 
one  of  the  most  eccentric  and  difficult 
writers  of  Germany.  Jean  Paul's  writ- 
ings are  so  much  the  reflex  of  Jean  Paul 
himself,  that  every  light  that  shines 
upon  the  one  inevitably  illumines  the 
other.  The  work  is  a  useful  exhibition 
of  a  great  and  amiable  man,  who,  pos- 
sessed of  the  kindliest  feelings,  and  the 
most  brilliant  fantasy,  turned  to  a  high 
purpose  that  humour  of  which  Rabelais 
is  the  great  grandfather,  and  Sterne  one 
of  the  line  of  ancestors,  and  contrasted 
it  with  an  exaltation  of  feeling  and  a 
rhapsodical  poetry  which  are  entirely 
his  own.  Let  us  hope  that  it  will  com- 
plete the  work  begun  by  Mr.  Carlyle's 
Essays,  and  cause  Jean  Paul  to  be  really 
read  in  this  country." — Examiner. 

"  Richter  is  exhibited  in  a  most  ami- 
able light  in  this  biography— industri- 
ous, frugal,  benevolent,  with  a  child-like 
simplicity  of  character,  and  a  heart 
overflowing  with  the  purest  love.  His 
letters  to  his  wife  are  beautiful  memo- 
rials of  true  affection,  and  the  way  in 
which  he  perpetually  speaks  of  his  chil- 
dren shows  that  he  was  the  most  at- 
tached and  indulgent  of  fathers.  Who- 
ever came  within  the  sphere  of  his  com- 
panionship appears  to  have  contracted 
an  affection  for  him  that  death  only 
dissolved :  and  while  his  name  was  re- 
sounding through  Germany,  he  re- 
mained as  meek  and  humble  as  if  he 
had  still  been  an  unknown  adventurer 
on  Parnassus." — The  Apprentice. 

"  The  life  of  Jean  Paul  is  a  charming 
piece  of  biography  which  draws  and 
rivets  the  attention.  The  affections  of 
the  reader  are  fixed  on  the  hero  with  an 
intensity  rarely  bestowed  on  an  his- 


John  Chapman,  142,  Strand. 


29 


THE    CATHOLIC    SERIES (continued.) 


torical  character.  It  is  impossible  to 
read  this  biography  without  a  convic- 
tion of  its  integrity  and  truth;  and 
though  Ritcher's  style  is  more  difficult 
of  translation  than  that  of  any  other 

Essays.    By  R.  W.  Emerson. 


German,  yet  we  feel  that  his  golden 
thoughts  have  reached  us  pure  from  the 
mine,  to  which  he  has  given  that  impress 
of  genius  which  makes  them  current  in 
all  countries." — Chrutian  Reformer. 


(Second  Series.)    With  a  Notice  by  THOMAS  CAHLYUB.    3s.  paper  cover  ; 
3s.  6d.  cloth. 


"Among  the  distinguishing  features 
of  Christianity— we  are  ready  to  say  THE 
distinguishing  feature— is  its  humanity, 
its  deep  sympathy  with  human  kind, 
and  its  strong  advocacy  of  human  wants 
and  rights.  In  this  particular,  few 
have  a  better  title  to  be  ranked  among 
the  followers  of  Jesus  than  the  author 
of  this  book."— American  Christian  Ex- 
aminer. 

"  The  difficulty  we  find  in  giving  a 
proper  notice  of  this  volume,  arises 
from  the  pervadingness  of  its  excellence, 
and  the  compression  of  its  matter. 
With  more  learning  than  Hazlitt,  more 
perspicuity  than  Carlyle,  more  vigour 
and  depth  of  thought  than  Addison,  and 
with  as  much  originality  and  fascination 
as  any  of  them,  this  volume  is  a  bril- 
liant addition  to  the  Table  Talk  of  in- 
tellectual men,  be  they  who  or  where 
they  may." — Protpective  Review. 

"  Mr.  Emerson  is  not  a  common  man, 
and  everything  he  writes  contains  sug- 
gestive matter  of  much  thought  and 
earnestness." — Examiner. 

"  That  Emerson  is,  in  a  high  degree, 
possessed  of  the  faculty  and  vision  of 
the  teer,  none  can  doubt  who  will  ear- 
nestly and  with  a  kind  and  reverential 
spirit  peruse  these  nine  Essays.  He 
deals  only  with  the  true  and  the  eternal. 
His  piercing  gaze'at  once  shoots  swiftly, 
surely  through  the  outward  and  the  su- 
perficial, to  the  inmost  causes  and  work- 
ings. Any  one  can  tell  the  time  who 
looks  on  the  face  of  the  clock,  but  he 
loves  to  lay  bare  the  machinery  and 
show  its  moving  principle.  His  words 
and  his  thoughts  are  a  fresh  spring, 


that  invigorates  the  soul  that  is  steeped 
therein.  His  mind  is  ever  dealing  with 
the  eternal ;  and  those  who  only  live  to 
exercise  their  lower  intellectual  facul- 
ties, and  desire  only  new  facts  and  new 
images,  and  those  who  have  not  a  feel- 
ing or  an  interest  in  the  great  question 
of  mind  and  matter,  eternity  and  nature, 
will  disregard  him  as  unintelligible  and 
uninteresting,  as  they  do  Bacon  and 
Plato,  and,  indeed,  philosophy  itself."— 
Douglas  JerroUTs  Magazine. 

"  Beyond  social  science,  because  be- 
yond and  outside  social  existence,  there 
lies  the  science  of  self,  the  development 
of  man  in  his  individual  existence, 
within  himself  and  for  himself.  Of  this 
latter  science,  which  may  perhaps  be 
called  the  philosophy  of  individuality, 
Mr.  Emerson  is  an  able  apostle  and 
interpreter." — League. 

"  As  regards  the  particular  volume  of 
EMERSON  before  us,  we  think  it  an  im- 
provement upon  the  first  series  of  essays. 
The  subjects  are  better  chosen.  They 
come  more  home  to  the  experience  of 
the  mass  of  makind,  and  are  conse- 
quently more  interesting.  Their  treat- 
ment also  indicates  an  artistic  improve- 
ment in  the  composition." — Spectator. 

"All  lovers  of  literature  will  read 
Mr.  Emerson's  new  volume,  as  the 
most  of  them  have  read  his  former  one ; 
and  if  correct  taste,  and  sober  views  of 
life,  and  such  ideas  on  the  higher  sub- 
jects of  thought  as  we  have  been  ac- 
customed to  account  as  truths,  are 
sometimes  outraged,  we  at  least  meet 
at  every  step  with  originality,  imagi- 
nation, and  eloquence." — Inquirer. 


The  Emancipation  of  the  Negroes  in  the  British  West  Indies. 

An  Address  delivered  at  Concord,  Massachusetts,  on  the  1st  of  August,  1844. 
By  K.  W.  EMERSON.    Post  8vo.  6d.  paper  cover. 


"  It  is  really  purifying  to  be  able  to 
turn,  at  this  moment,  to  anything 
righteous  and  generous  from  an  Ameri- 
can on  Slavery  and  Great  Britain,  so  as 
to  be  relieved  from  the  scorn  and  loath- 
ing produced  by  Mr.  Calhoun's  Letter 
to  the  American  Minister  at  Paris. 
Since  Channing  is  no  more,  it  is  a  satis- 
faction that  there  is  one  man  in  Ame- 


rica of  a  potential  voice,  who  can  utter 
these  words  of  reproof  to  his  country,  of 
justice  to  Great  Britain." — Pro*.  Rev. 

"  We  need  not  tell  any  one  who  has 
the  slightest  acquaintance  with  his  pre- 
vious writings  that  Mr.  Emerson  is  elo- 
quent ;  and  here  he  has  a  noble  subject, 
into  which  he  has  thrown  his  whole 
soul." — Inquirer. 


30 


Works  published  ly 


THE    CATHOLIC    SERIES (continued.) 

The  Roman  Church  and  Modern  Society. 

By  E.  QUINET,  of  the  College  of  France.  Translated  from  the  French  Third 
Edition  (with  the  Author's  approbation),  by  C.  COCKS,  B.L.  8vo.  5s.  cloth. 


"  "We  take  up  this  enlightened  volume, 
which  aims,  in  the  spirit  of  history  and 
philosophy,  to  analyze  the  Romanist 
principle,  with  peculiar  pleasure.  A 
glance  at  the  headings  of  the  chapters 
much  interested  ourselves,  and  we  doubt 
not  will  our  readers :— The  Superlatively 
Catholic  Kingdom  of  Spain ;  Political 
Results  of  Catholicism  in  Spain ;  The 
Roman  Church  and  the  State  ;  The 
Roman  Church  and  Science ;  The  Ro- 
man Church  and  History ;  The  Roman 
Church  and  Law ;  The  Roman  Church 
and  Philosophy;  The  Roman  Church 
and  Nations  ;  The  Roman  Church  and 
the  Universal  Church." — Christian  Re- 
former. 

"  The  fourth  lecture,  entitled  '  The 
Roman  Church  and  Science'  appears  to 
us  the  most  striking  and  luminous  ex- 
position we  have  seen  of  the  condition 
of  the  Roman  church,  and  ofits  unavail- 
ing hostility  to  the  progress  of  mankind. 
Our  space  precludes  the  possibility  of 
quoting  the  whole,  or  we  should  do  so 
with  great  pleasure.  It  delineates,  in 
vivid  colours,  the  history^  of  Galileo,  his 
character,  his  discoveries,  his  philo- 
sophical protest  against  the  theology  of 
Rome,  the  horrible  persecutions  which 
he  suffered,  and  his  effects  upon  the 
ecclesiastical  power— changing  the  rela- 
tive positions  of  science  and  the  church, 
unfolding  a  theology  more  profound 
than  that  of  Rome,  a  code  of  laws  more 
infallible  than  that  of  the  church,  a 
grand  and  comprehensive  system  of 
ideas  transcending  in  its  Catholicity 
Catholicism  itself 

"  The  four  remaining  lectures  are 
severally  entitled — The  Roman  Church 
and  Law  (in  which  the  Inquisition  is  a 
conspicuous  subject)  —  The  Roman 
Church  and  Philosophy— The  Roman 
Church  and  Nations — The  Roman 
Church  and  the  Universal  Church.  We 
cannot  characterize  each  of  these  in 
particular :  suffice  it  to  say  that  there  is 
a  profound  and  expansive  philosophical 
spirit  breathing  through  the  whole; 
every  subject  is  compelled  to  contribute 
its  entire  force  of  facts  and  illustration 
for  the  construction  of  the  one  great 


argument  which  is  the  object  and  com- 
plement of  each— viz.,  that  the  Roman 
Church  is  no  longer  adequate  to  the 
enlarged  needs  and  aspirations  of  man- 
kind, that  it  has  fulfilled  the  mission  for 
which  it  was  originated— that  the  ener- 
gies it  once  put  forth  in  the  cause  of 
humanity  are  paralyzed,  that  its  decre- 
pitude is  manifest,  and  its  vitality 
threatened,  that  it  has  shown  itself  in- 
capable of  continuing  as  the  minister  of 
God's  will,  and  the  interpreter  of  those 
divine  laws  whose  incarnation  in  human 
life  is  the  pledge  of  man's  spiritual  ad- 
vancement and  happiness,  that  it  heeds 
not  the  signs  of  the  times,  refuses  any 
alliance  with  the  spirit  of  progression, 
clings  tenaciously  to  the  errors  and 
dead  formulas  of  the  past,  recognizes 
the  accession  of  no  new  truths,  and 
hence  prostrates  the  intellect,  proscribes 
the  enlargement  of  our  spiritual  boun- 
daries, lays  an  inderdict  on  human  pro- 
gress, compels  us  to  look  perpetually 
backwards,  and  blights  our  hopes  of  the 
future,  and— in  the  words  of  Quinet — 
'represents  the  earth  as  a  condemned 
world  formed  for  chastisement  and  evil.' 

"  Considered  as  a  whole,  the  book  be- 
fore us  is  the  most  powerful  and  philo- 
sophically consistent  protest  against 
the  Roman  Church  which  has  ever 
claimed  our  attention,  and,  as  a  strong 
confirmation  of  its  stirring  efficiency, 
we  may  mention  that  the  excitement  it 
has  created  in  Paris  has  subjected  the 
author  to  a  reprimand  from  both  Cham- 
bers of  the  Legislature,  and  excommu- 
nication by  the  Pope." — Inquirer. 

"  M.  Quinet  belongs  to  the  movement 
party,  and  has  lately  been  conspicuous 
in  resisting  the  pretensions  of  the  Jesuit 
and  French  clergy  to  the  exclusive  edu- 
cation of  the  youth  of  France.  He  has 
grappled  with  his  theme  both  practi- 
cally, and  in  the  philosophical  spirit  of 

history Rare  merits  are  comprised 

in  this  volume a  genuine  spirit 

pervades  it,  and  there  are  many  pasa- 
ges  of  great  depth,  originality  and  elo- 
quence."— Atlas. 

"  —  These  eloquent  and  valuable 
lectures." — New  Church  Advocate. 


The  Rationale  of  Religious  Inquiry j 


Or,  the  Question  stated,  of  Reason,  the  Bible,  and  the  Church.  By  JASTES 
MARTINEAD.  Third  Edition,  With  a  Critical  Letter  on  Rationalism,  Mira- 
cles, and  the  Authority  of  Scripture,  by  the  late  Rev.  JOSEPH  BLANCO 
WHITE.  4s.  paper  cover ;  4s.  6d.  cloth. 


John  Chapman,  142,  Strand. 


31 


THE  CATHOLIC  SERIES — continued. 

Sermons  of  Consolation. 

By  F.  W.  P.  GREENWOOD,  D.D.    5s.  cloth. 


"  Thia  is  a  really  delightful  volume, 
which  we  would  gladly  see  producing 
its  purifying  and  elevating  influences  in 
all  our  families."— Inauirer. 

"  This  beautiful  volume  we  are  sure 


will  meet  with  a  grateful  reception  from 
all  who  seek  instruction  on  the  topics 
most  interesting  to  a  thoughtful  mind. 
There  are  twenty-seven  sermons  in  the 
volume."—  Christian  Examiner. 


Self-Culture. 

By  WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHAKNING.    6d.  paper  cover;  is.  cloth. 

Christianity,  or  Europe. 

Translated  from  the  German  of  NOVAXJS  (Friedrich  ron  Hardenberg),  by 
the  Rev.  J.  D ALTON.    6d.  paper  cover. 


32  Works  published  by  John  Chapman. 


THE    CATHOLIC     SERIES. 

(Uniform,  in  Post  Octavo.) 

**  For  Prospectus,  explaining  the  Principles  and  Object  of  the  Series, 
and  for  the  Opinions  of  the  Press,  see  pages  21  and  22  of  the 
Catalogue. 

Works  already  Published. 

1.  The  Philosophical  and  JEsthetie  Letters 

and  Essays  of  Schiller. 
*.  The  Philosophy  of  Art.  By  F.  W.  3.  Von  Schelling. 

3.  The  Destination  of  Man.    By  Johann  G.  Fichte. 

4.  The  Mature  of  the  Scholar  and  its  mani- 

festations.    By  Johann  Gottlieb  Fichte. 

5.  Essays.     By  R.  W.  Emerson. 

6.  The  Emancipation  of  the  Negroes.    By 

E.  "VV.  Emerson. 

9.  The  Life  of  Jean  Paul  Fr.  Richter.    2  vols. 

8.  The    Etonian   Church  and   modern   So- 

ciety.    By  E.  Quinet. 

9.  The  Rationale  of  Religious  Inquiry.    By 

James  Martineau, 

10.  The   Mental   History  of  an   Inquiring 

Spirit.    A  Riography  of  Charles  El- 
wood.     By  O.  W.  Brownson. 

11.  Sermons  of  Consolation.     By  F.  W.  P.  Green- 

wood,  D.D. 
1*.  Self-Culture.     By  William  Ellery  Charming. 

13.  Christianity,  or  Europe.    By  Novalis. 

14.  The  Mission  of  the  German  Catholics. 

By  Prof.  G.  G.  Gervinus. 

15.  The  Worship  of  Genius,  and  The  Distinc- 

tive Character  or  Essence  of  Chris- 
tianity.    By  Prof.  C.  Ullmaun. 

16.  Characteristics  of  Men  of  Genius. 

19.   The  Vocation  of  the  Scholar.    By  J.  G.  Fichte. 

18  ,  The  Characteristics  of  the  Present  Age. 

By  Johann  Gottlieb  Fichte. 

19.  Memoir  of  Johann  Gottlieb  Fichte. 


II.  Morton,  Printer,  2,  Crane-court,  Fleet-street. 


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